Dark Jack

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

The Hunter's Dream

While Farren and Torquil took cover to cautiously scout the area, trying to figure out exactly where the Winter Lantern was and how to best approach it, someone else had much less patience for disturbances such as this one. Barely had several seconds gone by with the eerie song drifting through the air before the Shopkeeper burst out of their workshop, a blunderbuss ready in their left hand as they sprinted down the stairs and in the direction of the sound. A moment later they heard the change in pitch of the Winter Lantern having spotted prey, immediately followed by a gunshot.
With that the song stilled and light returned to the Dream, and a few seconds later the Shopkeeper came strolling back toward the workshop, their entire right arm drenched in blood.
Farren, had an experience that--particularly during the famously grave Night of the Hunt--was truly novel: he felt profoundly silly. Lips parting briefly, Farren just sighed and pushed to his feet. Shaking his head, and actually managing a small chuckle, Farren rounded the gravestones to thank the Moonborn, then move to the Messenger Fountain where he would make some purchases after some moments of brief considerations.
Once he'd concluded that he sought out Amaris, “I've echoes to spend, if you please, Amaris.”

With the revelation that the Shopkeeper appeared to be highly adept at handling Winter Lanterns – as one might expect from the amalgamation of innumerable god-slaying Paleblood Hunters – the rest of the Hunters' business in the Dream was handled without incident. Farren, Ophelia and Gerlinde each took turns with the doll and the birdbath Messengers to carefully weigh their choices and spend all of their blood echoes... but while Torquil looked different now, he was still the same on the inside. As soon as he was left to his own devices he felt somewhat directionless, though even without the hint that his companions were doing so he did feel as though he should probably use his blood echoes for something.
He took a brief glance into the birdbath to see if anything stood out to him, but was quickly overwhelmed by the burden of choice and abandoned it without conjuring anything out of it. Instead he just went to the doll and told her to make him stronger. The doll asked how much, given that he had an abundance of echoes, and he simply told her “as much as possible.”

Ophelia also took the opportunity to commune some more with the Cosmic Sword of Truth.
“What can you tell me about the Moonborn Hunter? I noticed that when we summoned their aid against Arrayah none of their attacks seemed effective, even changing weapons, until we gave them something physical. They must possess great arcane power too, no?”
“The Moonborn Hunter?” The voice paused to ponder the question. “You have not seen the Moonborn Hunter yet. What fought alongside you against Arrayah, and what is here in the Dream with you now, is not that. This is the Moonborn Shopkeeper. And though powerful, they are but a projection of one aspect of the Moonborn. The Moonborn Hunter is tremendously more powerful... and even that may still only be a piece of the whole. They are a Great One, with the power to match the title.”
“Ah, of course - though... I wonder, why could they not hear the whispers of the Holy Moonlight Sword? They must have obtained it prior to becoming a Great One... though as they tell it, time broke on the Night of the Blood Moon. Perhaps some versions of them did?”
“When they obtained the Holy Moonlight Sword they were already an irregularity. Time was already shattered from actions in twisted pasts and futures. None of them were ever going to be its Champion because they were already distortions of the whole.”
“Mmm... what can you tell me of Flora, now that you are whole?”
“Flora is a Great One of the Nightmare and the one who dreams the Paleblood. She is within you as she is within Gerlinde; you carry her with you always, Champion.”

And with that out of the way, they all hastened to the Unseen Headstone, touched the marker “Vileblood Queen's Chamber”, and went off to visit Castle Cainhurst and return to the Waking World for the first time in more than two hours.

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

A moment later the four Hunters awakened and found themselves in the familiar scenery of the Cainhurst throne room. Things looked quite the same, with Queen Annalise herself presiding over the area on her throne as always... except that the queen herself gave off a rather different sense than last they had seen her. On their last visit the Vileblood Queen had slouched weakly in her seat, barely moving from the spot and struggling so much as to raise her head when addressed. In stark contrast to that, the queen they saw now sat straight and proud on her throne, as though the withering frailty that had afflicted her had been utterly vanquished. Though still trapped in her mask she held herself with strength and dignity; a far more intimidating presence than she had ever been.

“Ah, they return,” she said but a couple of seconds after their arrival, and even her voice sounded as though it had regained lost power. “Have thee news to declare, moon-scented Hunters? Perchance, dost thou bring the key to this accursed mask, or Divine Queen Yharnam's Bloodblade?”

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Halls of the Old Lords, beyond the Old Labyrinth (depth 4)

“You know my interest is mainly in the Nightmare,” Gerlinde remarked about what would be next in their plans, “which is where we are now, so I'm already happy. If you want to go to Cainhurst when we get back, I don't mind.”
She turned to Torquil and shot him an appraising look. “It's all right,” was the extent of her feedback.
“I think I might steal all of the Followers' arcane implements...” Ophelia mused aloud, mostly in response to Gerlinde. “Ah, something that you missed in Arrayah's chamber: there's a queer door, with a mural of the two halves of my blade. I didn't have enough arcane power to open it when we tried, but there's a lantern there so it'll be easy to get back to. When I do I suspect there'll be a bounty of arcane treasures for us to take... though I think you should probably take them, Gerlinde: this blade is all I will ever need, after all.”
Gerlinde glanced at the Cosmic Sword of Truth for a moment before smiling at Ophelia. “Considering we found the Mask Rune at the entrance to the Followers' hideout, I don't think we should expect Deception to work on them. But I appreciate the generosity.”
Farren had, admittedly, been wondering why it was taking Torquil so long, so he was rather relieved when the man finished. Though, seeing the process carried out again was indeed a rather fascinating thing. Now less startled than he had been by Ophelia being replaced by her own reflection, Farren was able to take in the changes. Torquil emerged and as he did, he did so a new man...almost literally. Green eyes with pale blue rings, a strong jaw, black braided beard with a fierceness to his gaze and more definition in his cheekbones than before. It was a surprisingly comprehensive transformation, but given how drastic the present Gerlinde's appearance differed from the image of her in his memory? Well...it wasn't entirely surprising. Still, Farren did not react much outwardly--his eyes widened only fractionally before settling back into a more measured, appraising expression--almost thoughtful really. The azure-eyed hunter brought his hand up and ran it through his own somewhat unruly beard. What was one to say in response to Torquil's question? It seemed...rather mean-spirited to say it was a marked improvement, if only because that implied he had looked...rather unfortunate before.
Farren's gaze shifted as Gerlinde replied, her own appraising look and response brief and perfunctory, yet...that did not seem entirely right either. He frowned slightly then glanced back at Torquil and a small smile curled up one side of his lips, “It's a stark difference, but not an unwelcome one.” That left it not entirely clear whether he had thought Torquil looked unappealing before, “Well chosen I think. You've a distinct...look to you,” Farren nodded and crossed the distance, giving him a rough pat on the shoulder, gripping briefly in a companionable gesture.
“It suits you. How does it feel?” It was slightly strange to be looking up at Torquil now, but he didn't particularly care. Farren had worked with men taller than himself--women too on occasion.
“A good point... though I don't expect it to matter too much in either case: it's quite the lethal instrument even without Deception... and will only get more lethal as we accrue more arcane power. To that end... let's take the long route fighting our way out of here, hmm? More echoes means more power, and we should take every advantage.” Ophelia replied, brow furrowed for a few seconds as she considered Gerlinde's point before she broke into a similar smile.
“It feels weird,” Torquil hesitantly replied to Farren's question. “My eyes are back to normal, and everything feels a little further away. It will take some getting used to.” He flashed a smile, showing off teeth that were now a clean and healthy white like Gerlinde's.
“I'm all for that,” Gerlinde evaluated Ophelia's suggestion, “but I'll remind you that I got killed in the next room last time I was here, so I don't know what's ahead anymore. Things are also much more dangerous down here.”
Farren gave Torquil another firm jostling pat on the shoulder before letting go with a nod of understanding. He half turned to address Ophelia and Gerlinde, “What of the other path, the one we did not take?” The words called to mind the other doorway they'd not come through. After all, Gerlinde had led them this way in the interest of reaching the Chalice at speed.
Gerlinde shrugged. “More things that want to kill us, maybe more loot? But nothing especially interesting.”
Farren nodded briefly, “More echoes then...and I'll take what we can get. If there's no lantern that way, then I think--” he cut himself off and looked back to Gerlinde, “You said you died in the next room...was there no lantern before the enemies that cut you down?”
“There was not,” she confirmed with a shake of her head.
“Mmm...then I think it best we go back, clear the remaining rooms, and head back to the Dream. We've echoes to put to good use and should we die, this way we can come back...perhaps all with Deception inscribed upon our minds to retrieve what was left behind.” he replied, before turning bodily towards the path they'd cleared to get to the Chalice chamber. He glanced back over his shoulder briefly, but thought better of the query he'd considered, and instead looked back to the threshold and began to walk. If they didn't want to come along, so be it, he'd return to the Dream instead of exploring the remaining chambers.
“Deception will keep me quite safe; I think I'll head the way Gerlinde went before and try to find a lantern that way.” Ophelia replied as Farren made his intention to return the way they came clear.
“Any of you are welcome to join me, but this might be best done alone.”
“I'll come with you," Gerlinde immediately told Ophelia, her green eyes shining with greed. "I want to see what's deeper in the Nightmare, too.”
“We should stick together,” Torquil pointed out nervously. “Or... if we're splitting up, should I go with Farren? Just so no one is alone?”
“That sounds very sensible, love, having someone else to administer emergency blood vials is key to making it through I think. The boys and the girls can split up, then, take three of the vials we found down here.” Ophelia replied to Torquil with a smile before she turned again to Gerlinde.
“Are you wanting to use the Mask rune, still, dear? I think Deception or Heir will be best--I can scout a room, let you know what enemies there are, and we can tackle them that way?”
“If we are going to be sneaky about it, I'll take the Truth Rune,” Gerlinde compromised with a smirk. “I may not get the benefits from your sword, but it does still combine the effects of Deception and Guidance.”
“Smart choice. You know, you'll be the second human it's ever been applied to?” Ophelia commented as she retrieved the runebrand and gave it to Gerlinde.

With that the Hunters split up, with Ophelia and Gerlinde delving deeper into the Nightmare in search for another lantern while Farren and Torquil ventured back the way they came to clear the rooms they had passed by and eventually return to whence they came.
For Ophelia and Gerlinde's part, they very quickly discovered that the first beasts they encountered in this area – horned, fire-breathing hounds – did not so much as for an instant seem confused by the lesser Deception-effect on Gerlinde, nor oblivious to Ophelia through her empowered version of it. It also became quite clear that Gerlinde had not been exaggerating: it was immediately apparent that the denizens of this floor were much more dangerous than those of the previous one.
They fought through two rooms, each time barely scraping by, before Ophelia recommended that they try to rush through the next room while avoiding a fight. They very quickly realized their mistake as they were pelted with fireballs shot by some manner of ill-omened sorcerers, and they both ended up having to sacrifice quicksilver bullets and blood vials just to get out with their lives intact.
Made wary by the near-death experience in the previous chamber, the two Huntresses decided that it might be wiser to slow down and go cautiously, which allowed them to conquer the next room more easily. They battled their way through seemingly endless hordes of giant spiders to finally get to a tall black-clad Pthumerian woman ringing a sinister bell. It was clear even without Gerlinde announcing it that this Pthumerian was continuously conjuring spiders, but as soon as they slew her, her minions vanished.
Out of the available options, Gerlinde was now able to identify one room ahead of them as the one that would most likely have the lantern they were looking for, so the Huntresses cautiously went forth to look for it. But before they could find their way out, they were set upon by another Pthumerian, this one wielding fearsome magic, deadly weapons and displaying immense agility, all at once. Expending copious amounts of quicksilver and still having to imbibe blood vials just to survive, they did ultimately succeed by the skin of their teeth.
For them, the entire journey ended up taking a little over 30 minutes.

Farren and Torquil's trek through the upper floor, meanwhile, went quite smoothly. Not only were the denizens of that floor not as dangerous as those below, but Farren and Torquil were both strong and agile fighters in stark contrast to their female companions. They went through and cleared the remaining four rooms on the highest floor without so much as a single close call, and returned to the Dream victorious and, at least in Torquil's case, in good spirits. They made good time and got to their lantern in only a little about 25 minutes... meaning they got there a while before the Huntresses.

The Hunter's Dream

Which only made it all the more terrifying when, a couple of seconds after Farren and Torquil had awakened in the Dream, their false Paleblood caused a reaction. 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 perpetual 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.
And then came that haunting, discordant song, echoing among the headstones and sending the Messengers scurrying into the ground to hide. They had experienced this before and knew immediately what had happened: another Winter Lantern had been summoned into the Dream.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

The Waters of Reflection, Halls of the Old Lords, beyond the Old Labyrinth (depth 4, floor 2)

Torquil and Gerlinde both looked on with keen interest as Ophelia went first to try out the miraculous powers of this strange little basin, though it was obviously difficult to tell interest – or any other emotion for that matter – from Torquil's current features. He tried his best to get a look at Ophelia's reflection in the water to see what she was doing, but due to the nature of reflections he could not see much from his perspective.
When Ophelia had finished imagining the changes she wanted to make and jumped into the water, they would all get the rather remarkable experience of witnessing the magic waters at work. As Ophelia broke the surface and began to sink, the perfect still, mirror-like liquid made it look as though she and her reflection were colliding and passing through each other, the real her on her way down and the reflection on the way up. And while Ophelia had made only minor changes, they would all certainly notice the difference as soon as they could see the reflection of Ophelia's head with the different hair coming up to meet Ophelia's actual head and hair... only for the two to cross paths as Ophelia submerged, upon which the one reflection vanished and the Ophelia now below the water had been replaced with it. Now in the water, she had become her reflection, and as she climbed out of the pool – completely dry despite having just gone in the water – her appearance had been altered to suit her wishes.
“That's all?” Gerlinde remarked, still smiling but with a tone of humorous disappointment. “I guess it's fine if that's your preference. It's certainly unique.”

As soon as Ophelia had finished making her desired alterations, Torquil hesitantly walked over to stand above the basin. He looked down and saw hundreds of refracted copies of his own inhuman visage in the water looking back at him, and felt his gut churn at the thought that the abomination he was looking at was himself. But here, now, with the magic of these waters swirling with eldritch light, he could remedy that and return to his old self. He just had to imagine –
His heart abruptly sank at a horrid realization: he could not picture his own face. He knew what it felt like to wear his face, of course, but he could not at all remember actually seeing himself. Even as the strained his mind to its limit to try to recall if he had ever caught so much as a glimpse of his own reflection, the few glimpses he could remember had either been while he was wearing a helmet or after his head had already mutated. He would need a picture of himself to ever hope to replicate what he used to look like, and he could not imagine that there would ever have been anyone who cared enough about him to make one.
But as he continued to stare at himself in the water, watching the tentacles on his face lazily undulate of their own accord and his big, bug-like eyes staring back up at him soullessly, he pondered what to do... and realized that this might be an opportunity. As long as he could remember – which was just earlier this evening, to be fair, when he woke up a Hunter for the first time – whenever his thoughts had turned to himself, it had provoked revulsion and self-hate. Even now he still did not understand why he felt that way, but perhaps this was a means by which he could distance himself from those feelings? A chance to reinvent himself and become someone else? Someone better? Yes! The time of Old Torquil was over, and it was time for him to become New Torquil! More handsome and confident, someone people would actually notice and maybe even look at with admiration!
The only issue with that idea was that he had a very limited concept of what a “handsome” man would look like. He knew what he found attractive in women, but what did people interested in men want to see in them? The main point of inspiration he could think of was Dietrich, who everyone seemed to fawn over. For a moment Torquil imagined himself with Dietrich's face, and his reflection shifted in response to this... and Torquil immediately found it unnerving to see the First Hunter of the White Healing Church looking back from his own reflection. What could he do to not just be a replica of someone else?
He cocked his head as seconds ticked by, his face-tentacles writhing and twisting as the Hunter's mind slowly worked its way through the redesign of himself. Dietrich's face... but maybe with somewhat stronger bone-structure, something closer to what Farren had. Strong cheekbones, fierce eyes. Jaw... Torquil's jaw used to trouble him before the Shopkeeper fixed it. A strong, broad jaw, like Victor's. And maybe something like Victor's beard, in those fancy braids? Ah, but Torquil did remember that his own hair was neither blond like Dietrich's nor chestnut like Victor's: Torquil's hair was black, so he could keep it that way. And his eyes... he thought his eyes used to be brown? Should he do something fancy with them, like Ophelia had with hers? He really liked Gerlinde's eyes, sapphire blue with the green ring around the iris... maybe he could invert that? Make them green with a blue ring? But not sapphire blue like Gerlinde's eyes, pale blue like Dietrich's. Yes, that looked nice. And his body? He was mostly fine with his body; he was strong and sturdy, but he did wish he was a bit taller. It had always felt slightly humiliating to be the shortest out of their little party, especially compared to Farren and Gerlinde. When he thought of a taller version of himself... maybe something like Victor's build? Victor had been even taller than Farren, and looked really strong as well. Yes...

After a long couple of minutes of silently staring at himself in the water, Torquil finally braced himself and jumped into the pool. A couple of seconds later he emerged a completely new man, with the head of a man none of them had seen before, but that was at the very least that of a man rather than a monster.
“Did it work?” Torquil asked out loud, and was immediately and immensely relieved to hear his own human voice rather than the distorted version of his first altered face, let alone the weird telepathic speech of the second one. He looked down at his glove-clad hands and blinked, and was immediately grateful for the fact that he had eyelids to blink in the first place. “It did! How do I look?”

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Halls of the Old Lords, beyond the Old Labyrinth (depth 4, floor 1)

And so the four Hunters assembled in front of the Nightmare Headstone to venture through the marker reading “Halls of the Old Lords”, and soon found themselves awakening in a place that seemed somewhat reminiscent of the tunnel where they had awakened before going to face Arrayah. But though architecturally similar in isolation, they soon found that the area they were now invading was quite different than that, opening up into a smaller room populated by creatures that were undeniably horrifying, but nothing next to the abomination they had just slain. They were faced with several undead Pthumerians shambling about, accompanied by a handful of obscenely huge spiders. But thoroughly blooded as they now were the Hunters slaughtered all of them almost effortlessly and without so much as receiving a single injury.
At one point during the fight, however, one of the undead Pthumerians was staggered when Torquil – aided by the Deception Rune – sneaked up behind it and delivered a mighty blow with his axe. He felt his instincts responding to its helplessness and moved in to finish it off, but did not perform the usual visceral attack he had intended and expected. Instead he found himself rooted in place next to his victim while he felt something in his head shift, and the rest of the party would bear witness to the amorphous mass at the back of his head abruptly bursting out into a thick, long slimy tentacle. This new limb struck swiftly, burying its tip in the top of the Phtumerian's skull, only for it to contract and ripple as though sucking something out of the creature's brain. Its job done the tentacle promptly retreated back into Torquil's head, leaving him disoriented and unnerved.

Setting that event aside, the Hunters managed to scrounge up four blood vials before moving on. There were two different doors to go through, but since they had Gerlinde with them to show the way they took the shortest route toward their destination. Here they faced another crowd of undead Pthumerians, only now with a couple of them armed with guns and shooting at the Hunters from afar until dealt with. Things looked to be rather dangerous for Gerlinde at one point, but thanks to the aid of Ophelia and Farren they managed to get through with only some minor scrapes.
The party managed to find another three blood vials before moving on to the next room, where they fought more giant spiders as well as two very big and powerful Pthumerians. Despite facing more powerful opponents the Hunters once again managed to get through unscathed; Torquil even managed to trip and fall at one point, ending up prone and defenseless, but was saved by the fact that enemies kept missing him due to the Deception Rune. Despite the hardships they went through there, all they managed to find there was a single quicksilver bullet.
Finally they found themselves in an elongated hall and facing a single opponent who immediately stood out as significantly more dangerous than anything they had fought there so far: an armored eight-eyed warrior in strange garb, wielding a flaming sword and fearsome fiery magic. This ended up by far the toughest fight during the trek, but was still nothing compared to the likes of Arrayah or even Paarl. Even though they worked well together, the others had to save Torquil several times, as this wicked swordsman seemed impervious to the effects of his Deception Rune. Torquil ended up grievously wounded before they managed to slay their opponent, but managed to inject himself with a blood vial to save himself before he lost consciousness.
They managed to retrieve another blood gem from the remains of the floor guardian, only to proceed to the other end of the room where they found an elevator.
In total, Farren benefited immensely from applying the Heir Rune to himself and gained 1400 blood echoes during the journey, whereas Ophelia, Torquil and Gerlinde acquired 700 each. It took them a total of twenty minutes.

“My first time through here I just ran past all the guards,” Gerlinde told the others as they rode the elevator down. “It goes deeper, but we don't need to go there to reach the basin. It's also more dangerous the deeper we go... This is my first time back here, and I haven't been any further in than this. Or... well, I went to the next room and got killed, and decided it wasn't worth running all the way back here.”

The Waters of Reflection, Halls of the Old Lords, beyond the Old Labyrinth (depth 4, floor 2)

As the elevator arrived at the bottom of the shaft, the Hunters would disembark and arrive in a room that was mercifully vacant of all the horrors that usually lived in these dark, forgotten spaces. It was a fairly big, square room – twenty by twenty meters and looked to be nearly ten meters tall – with just two doorways opposite each other, one open that they entered through, one closed. Spread out in the four corners of the room were four two-by-two meter square basins, though none of them appeared to contain any water. Two of them appeared simply empty, one to be partially filled with rubble that had fallen from the ceiling, and one appeared half-full of glowing molten lava.
The most notable thing in the room, however, was a circular basin in the precise center of the space. Bathed in bluish sconcelight reflected by huge mirrors mounted under the ceiling in the corners of the room, this basin – with a diameter of about three meters – was full of water. But despite the fact that the surface of the water appeared perfectly still, as though it itself was a mirror, the light seemed to constantly be shifting, swirling and flickering within its depths.

“There it is,” Gerlinde announced happily, pointing to the central basin. “That's the one! Just stand over it and look at your own reflection. If you imagine anything different, the reflection will change to match it. And when you're happy with what you've imagined, just jump in the water and that'll be the new you!”

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Pthumeru Yharnam layer, the Old Labyrinth

With Arrayah reduced to a mess of naked bones and sloughing flesh, there was not much more to do in the Pthumeru Yharnam layer of the Old Labyrinth. Finding Gerlinde's saw spear was quite simple since it jutted out of the rock wall quite prominently, though dislodging it – especially without utterly destroying the blade – would take some work and time. To solve this issue, Farren first tried pulling it from the wall a couple of times, which accomplished little besides slightly wiggling it in place and probably bending the blade a little. With his first strategy seemingly having failed, the aspiring craftsman and mighty Hunter beckoned the Messengers and retrieved his Kirkhammer from them, and then proceeded to start smashing the wall a couple of meters next to where the saw spear was lodged.
Sadly the wall, even after a couple of good hits with the hefty hammer, did not appear to be particularly liable to crack or fall apart. Bits of dust and pulverized stone drizzled from the hammerhead and a new slight indentation in the wall, but otherwise it seemed that destroying the cave wall was not a viable solution either.
“Even if we get it out, it'll be terribly blunt. Let's pick up a replacement in the Dream instead, mm?” Ophelia suggested.
“Mmm…seems a shame, but….” he grunted once, frowned and knelt. After a murmured word and a moment, the Messengers rose. He sent a message for Gerlinde,

Shall I retrieve your Saw Spear? - Farren

After just a few seconds the Messengers returned to present Farren with a scroll:

That would be wonderful! But don't take too long, I think Torquil isn't doing too well. Gerlinde

Message from Gerlinde

Farren read the message, his eyes narrowed, but he remained in place for a moment before he began to position what few tools he could to begin extricating the weapon. “Torquil’s not well…go. I’ll get this. Should be…perhaps 15 minutes, hopefully less. If it’s dire, send a message and I’ll abandon this and come.” That said, he started to get things in place.
“I doubt that particular one holds any sentimental value, love. Let's just pick up another one in the Dream and be done with it, eh?” Ophelia replied, though she would acquiesce and leave if he seemed determined to continue.
Farren paused, glanced at her, then glanced back. His azure eyes lingered on the weapon for almost a full minute before he sighed and withdrew his implements and stowed things away. He grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, “Fine…” he clearly didn’t like to leave a perfectly good weapon behind, but he did his best to let it go. Ultimately, Torquil was more important.
Ophelia's expression softened somewhat at Farren's clear disappointment and she gave him a smile. “It's not like anything will happen to it in our absence, so we can always come back and get it later?”
“Mmh. Hard to say. Who knows. Could soak in the nightmare and…” he shrugged, having no idea what that might do to a physical object, though his gaze did shift to her weapon briefly. Something occurred to them then…all the bodies that had been in the tunnel they’d originally came from. Farren stopped and pivoted so one shoulder was turned in the tunnel’s direction.
“It just…occurred to me. Arrayah never came for us in that tunnel,” Farren pondered aloud, his eyes narrowing, “…and some of those corpses were new...”
Farren wet his dry lips, the dust and stagnant air having dried them out. “So, if not her…then what killed them…?”
He exhaled after a moment, fully turned and headed the other way. Afterall, who was to say the lantern was down one of the other corridors?
As he headed that way—his stride determined, but not brisk—Farren drew the True Blade(s) of Mercy (right hand) and one of his loaded Hunter’s Pistols (left hand).
Ophelia nodded and followed Farren. “They do have to come from somewhere, don't they? I suppose the labyrinth is perpetually filled with beasties if the tales and our experiences are any measure. Though... we should be quick. I want to get back to Torquil sooner rather than later.”

The two of them went back and checked, and sure enough they discovered something they had missed the first time around. Right in the middle of the ceiling, almost all the way back toward the deepest end of the tunnel, they discovered a small square hole – less than a meter in either wide and long – with what appeared to be a metal ladder attached to it. The ladder ended just as the hole opened into the space, however; while it seemed like a probably point of entry, it would have been too high for anyone to feasibly be able to climb back out again.

Torquil's axe, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen, no matter how they looked around the area where Torquil collided with the wall and died. If either of them had watched Torquil get thrown, impact and die and tried to recall it, they might remember him still holding on to the axe when he disappeared and it vanishing along with him. It took another several minutes for them to locate Farren's mangled piercing rifle, which would require extensive repairs if it was ever to function as anything but a crude bludgeon.

Searching for a way out of the chamber turned out to be somewhat time-consuming as well, though mostly due to the sheer enormity of Arrayah's cavern and the distances they had to cross. They already knew what was down the tunnel they had entered through, of course, but even ignoring that there were another three tunnels to search. Two of those three turned out to be rather quick to explore since they seemed to have collapsed and been blocked by rubble just a couple of dozen meters from the entrance, whereas the fourth and final tunnel turned out to be mostly intact.
They followed the tunnel for about a hundred uneventful meters before they discovered two things: an unlit lantern waiting for them to act as their means of return to the Dream, and a... sort of dead end. The tunnel seemed to end in a massive door of some kind, made entirely of metal and decorated with all manner of interesting iconography, most of which appeared to be humanoid creatures of some kind that appeared unusually tall, long-limbed and beautiful in the way they were portrayed, and garbed like high nobility. Among dozens of these figures that appeared to turn away and cast down their gaze in what appeared to be shame were two figures that stood out from the rest. One was a male clad in armor, who leaned on a quite distinctively shaped spear in his left hand; the other was female, clad in flowing robes, with her right hand on an equally distinctive greatsword with a broad blade that was depicted as giving off some kind of energy.
There could be little doubt that the adornment on the door showed two past wielders of the Profane Abyssal Blade and Holy Moonlight Sword, respectively. But even though it was obviously a door capable of opening, there was no obvious mechanism to do so, and it refused to budge even when forced. Thus even though there appeared to be more further into this layer of the Old Labyrinth, it was effectively a dead end.

Ophelia pondered the strange mural for a moment as she hemmed and hawed, before beckoning Farren to join her.
“It's a bit of a long shot, dear, but... Fractured Truth.” she spoke as she raised the Cosmic Sword of Truth aloft, and allowed each hand to take one of the two blades that resulted from the separation. She turned to Farren and offered him the Profane Abyssal Sword, nodding her head towards the engraving with a curious smile. “Perhaps?” she muttered as she cradled the Holy Moonlight Sword softly, awakening its radiance if it was not already and offering similar instruction to Farren if the same was true of its counterpart.
But even with the two halves of the Cosmic Sword of Truth divided, the door seemed to remain as immovable as ever. “The door seemed to respond before... when it was whole...” Ophelia would hear the soft whispers of the Holy Moonlight Sword tell her. “But now... there is still something... but much fainter. This door... must be very old. Perhaps if you... were more powerful... and it was whole...”
“Ah, of course... we humans must pale in comparison to the depths of the arcane that those who came before achieved. We shall return when I have grown to their might.” Ophelia responded, before motioning to take the sword back if Farren had taken it already. “Gestalt Truth,” she incanted quickly to conjoin the blades once more, “Ah, not yet. We... hah, we've taken rather a direct path to this point, haven't we? We must hunt, dear, that's all... grow stronger. Then we may return and see what lies beyond, mm? For now... let us return, yes?”
For his part, Farren simply grunted, having offered back the Profane weapon, shivering slightly as it left his touch. He decided he’d leave it to her unless it was ever truly necessary for him to wield. Though…the united form was appealing to him, it had a draw that felt…otherworldly. It didn’t suit him. “It’s just as well,” he said, somewhat gruffly. He wasn’t carrying all the damaged or broken implements he’d gathered, but instead had stowed them with the Messengers.

With their hopes of conquering this intriguing door dashed for the time being, the two of them lit the lantern to summon the Gatekeepers, and promptly – after a very long and grueling fight – returned to the safety of the Dream.

The Hunter's Dream

Finding themselves cleaned and refreshed by the transfer across worlds, Ophelia and Farren awakened in the Hunter's Dream to find it just as they had left it. No fresh horrors seemed to spawn out of the Nightmare despite the arrival of someone with false Paleblood in their veins; instead, Farren would find a piece of fire paper somewhere on his person that he did not recall getting.

Looking around, they would soon find that the doll, the Shopkeeper and Gerlinde – her body and garb alike restored to pristine condition – were all gathered near the main entrance to the workshop, with Torquil nowhere to be seen.
“Ah,” Ophelia would hear the voice of the Cosmic Sword of Truth in her head, “that is a strange feeling, the power of that false Paleblood in Farren. It sent ripples across the Dream when he arrived, but... it does not feel as though it is intended to disrupt the Dream. It is not Paleblood, but something that merely mimics its properties. How unusual. It is as though another Great One has tried to replicate it.”

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Pthumeru Yharnam layer, the Old Labyrinth

Through first his partially transformed hand and since through his grip on his Beastflayer, Farren would very strongly feel everything inside Arrayah moving and shifting as he delivered two brutal attacks in quick succession. Though her wounds no longer appeared to heal it seemed as though the rampant mutations assailing her only intensified, sending ripples of change through her form... but as her once-powerful regenerative ability depleted and failed to keep up with it, there was nothing to hold back harmful mutations as well. Within seconds Arrayah – desperately clinging to life even with a gaping hole through her chest and a burning glaive embedded in her head – was covered in repulsive cancerous growths. Her body convulsed, pushed far beyond any sort of functionality, and started randomly spurting blood as her skin tore open on its own.
She kept mutating, and the mutations kept becoming more and more destructive. After about ten seconds it had escalated to the point that her entire form quite literally unraveled, with flesh and muscle shredding apart from the sheer enormity of unbridled change. That, ultimately, was the final fate of the Black Blade of Yharnam: with her misshapen naked bones lying amid a pile of steaming gore. Only then did her failed evolution end, and her form finally became inert.

The Shopkeeper stopped their approach long before then, once they saw Farren deliver his visceral attack, and the last vestiges of a will to fight left their prey. They hesitated for a moment, cocked their head, and then faded away, their hunt at an end.

Ophelia, meanwhile, immediately went about seeking all the knowledge and understanding she possibly could while Farren put an end to what had unquestionably been by far the most harrowing fight of their short careers as Hunters. She called upon the Messengers and, using the runebrand as a medium as she had done before, showed the Deception Rune to them to see what wisdom they could offer from the Nightmare.

Deception
A Caryll Rune discovered by the Pthumerian Hunter Arrayah along with the Profane Abyssal Blade.
Erases the bearers presence indiscriminately until they interact with the creature. Also allows one to speak without producing sound, essentially communicating telepathically.
Arrayah wanted to be the true Champion of both her beloved blade and Pthumerian Yharnam more than anything else. The blade gave her power, told her what she needed to hear and showed her what she needed to see, all while hiding her crimes from the world.
For what is a more powerful deception than what is derived from truth?

Messenger scroll about the Deception Rune

Cosmic Sword of Truth
An impossible conceptual weapon that is the distilled essence of the Cosmos.
Holds the powers of the Holy Moonlight Sword and Profane Abyssal Blade alike, but also so much more. Only the gods could guess at its limits.
Long ago, two siblings wanted to kill a Great One and, in their quest, created a sword. But since there was but one sword and two of them, they split their god-killing weapon into two, and ventured into the Old Labyrinth to hunt their prey.

Messenger scroll about the Cosmic Sword of Truth

A moment later Ophelia applied the Guidance Rune to herself and addressed the voice in her head, only to find that it still felt somewhat faint, its connection to her still far from as strong as what she had once had with the Holy Moonlight Sword. “Once part of a singular rune? Champion, they are mirrors of the blades they belonged to. Just as the Holy Moonlight Sword and the Profane Abyssal Blade were each independent entities, yet also halves of this whole, the runes are the same. Guidance and Deception exist on their own... but together, they form the two sides of Truth. And Truth is what you need to fully wield the power of this sword.”

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Pthumeru Yharnam layer, the Old Labyrinth

A_r R ^aY _a H

The rabid creature that had once been the proud Arrayah, the Black Blade of Yharnam, continued to fill the air with her screams as the Hunters around her kept up their relentless assault. Yet another projected blade emerged from the shadows beneath her form, conjured forth by Ophelia to send another bolt of lightning through the monster's body. Farren brandished the Horn of the Old Lords he had borrowed from Gerlinde and wreathed his Beastflayer in flame, only to lash it at her and inflict yet more cuts and burns to her form.
And all the while Arrayah's body kept rippling, bulging and twisting, quickly erasing all semblance to the being she had once been. More and more eyes kept opening all over her sundered body, dozens of them in all shapes and sizes, and another two sets of arms ending in clawed hands emerged from her body.

Gerlinde kept laughing as she held on for her dear life on top of her frenzied opponent, not moving nor letting go even as two of Arrayah's clawed hands slashed at her, cleaving her flesh and spilling her blood once more... wounds which, quite notably, did not appear to regenerate. After Ophelia's projected blade had vanished again, however, Gerlinde did relinquish her hold on the crooked spike she had driven through the abomination's newly formed wings, leaving it in her flesh while she rummaged for just a heartbeat for something at the small of her back, tangled in the bloody and tattered remains of her skirt. Finally she retrieved an item from there the likes of which Ophelia had likely never seen before, but with which there was a small chance Farren was familiar: a cylindrical metal canister adorned with three sharp spikes, one of which was twice as long as the others. A rare and devastating weapon filled with gunpowder, the kind of which the White Healing Church tended to reject: a grenade.
Pausing her laugh for just long enough to pull a piece of string attached to the device with her teeth, Gerlinde then pulled the spike-like weapon she was still holding on to out of Arrayah and scrambled up to her head. The grenade was giving off sparks at this point as though from a lit fuse, and continued to do so even as the Huntress slammed it down into the nape of the monster, hooking its spikes in flesh.
One of Arrayah's hands slammed into Gerlinde's back, driving its claws into and through the woman's chest and abdomen, but even so Gerlinde kept wearing a triumphant, open-mouthed smile. A second later the sparking at the monster's head ceased, and suddenly Arrayah's deafening screams were silenced by the booming explosion that filled the air, enveloping the top part of Arrayah – her head and Gerlinde's impaled form alike – in a cloud of flame and shrapnel.

Arrayah dropped to the ground, her arms splayed out around her and twitching awkwardly. It seemed that Gerlinde had disappeared, likely killed by her own explosion, and their prey had been severely wounded. She was stunned, but not dead; not yet. Her momentarily inert body kept writhing, continuously mutating even now, and her wounds still regenerated... though they did so much, much more slowly now. Based on what they had seen so far, it would not be hard to determine that she had expended her regenerative potential and was down to the last flickering embers of vitality.

About ten meters away the Shopkeeper stood back up, finally recovered from the grievous wounds they had been dealt. They started sprinting toward Arrayah, right hand already poised for the visceral attack to finish her off... though Farren and Ophelia were both closer and could easily finish the fight before then.

The Prophecy - Dreams of Destiny

Jaelnec, Freagon, Irah, Lhirin, Nabi, Yanin, Jordan and Madara – Borstown, Bor Manor, dining room

While conversation progressed the meal commenced, with everyone being expected to going to the middle of the three tables to serve themselves from the food that had been set. Quintin, Cole, and Kylie all remained standing off to the side for the time being, simply watching, while Wade went off to the pantry again and the baroness took her seat at the head of the last table, right in front of and with her back to the painting of herself and the red-haired sorceress. All of them would be liable to notice that the tables and chairs around them were all designed for human-sized creatures, which this day fit everyone but Vela herself. To accommodate her penin stature, Vela's own chair was taller than the rest so she could reach the table, and had a little stepladder attached to its left side so she could easily get to the seat.
All of the chairs were unpretentious and practical, but obviously nice carpentry nevertheless; mostly solid beech with cushioned seat, backrest and armrests clad in red fabric. The tables, which looked to be oak, were a bit more decorative, with the table legs being ornately carved to smoothly widen and narrow, with strategically placed ridges and furrows that made them interesting to look at in an abstract sort of way. The tabletops were covered in thick beige tablecloth which, while not ugly, seemed to have been chosen more for the function of protecting the tables than for aesthetics.

After having climbed to her seat, the baroness proceeded to pick up her plate and climb on top of the table itself. She walked across the length of the table as if it was the most natural thing in the world to get to the middle table, where she casually served herself a healthy portion of everything.
The penin had finished filling her plate and was heading back toward her seat by the time Irah had finished speaking to Madara and addressed their host once more. At this point Wade also returned with a large bottle of red liquid in one hand – a bottle that some of them might recognize as wine from the winery just across the street from the manor – and a brass carafe in the other.

“That's entirely up to you,” she told her, hopping onto her chair and placing her plate of food back on the table. “But I'd recommend takin' at least a few days to rest before headin' out. I'm sure you could all use it, seein' as you've not only just been through two fights in one day that'd make trained soldiers balk, but you've also all been exposed to divine taint. Especially you.” She gestured to Irah with her left hand while stuffing a slice of baked apple in her mouth with her right.
“And if you do wait just a few days, I think I can make the task a lot easier,” she added after swallowing the piece of fruit. “If you accept doin' this for me, I'll send a message to Nemhim City as soon as dinner's over askin' the duchess to send a fella she has workin' for her that's somethin' of a specialist at figurin' stuff out. I'm sure he'll be a big help in trackin' this vampire... and I need to send her a message anyway, to tell her what's happened and ask for more Fadewatchers to be stationed here.”

At this point, just as Vela had returned to her seat, the servants of Bor Manor stepped forward to each retrieve a plate of their own, filled them with food and took seats at the last table together with the baroness; something that would be quite unusual to anyone versed in the customs of nobility. Servants did not typically eat the same meals as their masters, let alone being permitted to join them at the dining table.

While Irah and Vela had been speaking, Jaelnec had gone and retrieved a little bit of everything before taking a seat next to his master. Freagon, meanwhile, had filled his plate with just a big helping of stew and a hunk of bread... and while Jaelnec did his best to eat politely, using his knife and fork as well as he knew how, the old knight was greedily wolfing down his food, taking absolutely no time to savor the taste.
“No,” the one-eyed nightwalker grumbled through a mouthful of bread. “A thousand is too little.”
The baroness frowned. “Excuse me? I'm not made of money, Sir Freagon. Surely –”
“I don't care about how much you have,” he interrupted her. “That's irrelevant.” He gestured around the table at the adventurers gathered there. “There's eight of us, and it sounds like you're calling in a ninth from the city. That's only a little over a hundred rodlin for each, for days' worth of traveling, a search for the target, and a fight against a vampire that's known to be turning others... meaning we might be facing an entire crowd of them.” He fixed a dark stare at the penin. “A hundred rodlin per person for something like that is an insult. Offer more.”

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Pthumeru Yharnam layer, the Old Labyrinth

A_r R ^aY _a H

Ophelia's scintillating blade emerged from the ground and once more sent fingers of lightning crawling across Arrayah's flesh, but while Ophelia kept her sword embedded in the ground this time rather than retracting it immediately, it seemed that the electric sparks lasted only for half a second or so, and the projected blade seemed to dissipate of its own accord after about a second.
Farren transformed his Beastflayer and lashed at the monster's side, drawing another long, albeit shallow, wound across her side. Just as with the others, the wound did not appear to regenerate as rapidly as before and instead started to distend with some manner of unholy activity just beneath her skin.

Arrayah screamed, and screamed, and screamed, all while flailing rabidly with her arms, so lost in madness she barely even seemed to notice that both of her opponents were able to hit her from outside her range. But while she did so, her frenzied mutations also seemed to progress. A fifth and sixth arm abruptly burst out from her sides, each adorned with talons matching the other four. Her wide-open maw suddenly trembled, and her lower jaw cracked and split down the middle, turning what had once been something resembling a mammalian mouth into an opening that reminded more of the mouth of an insect, with the two halves of her jaw now acting as tooth-adorned mandibles.
And out of her back, right where Farren had hit her moments ago, a pair of long translucent insect-like wings emerged. They were narrow like those of a dragonfly and started flapping immediately and rapidly.

But then, just as it looked as though Arrayah was about to use her new wings to take to the air, they might just barely be able to make out another sound past their adversary's shrieks: laughter. Manic, eager laughter. Approaching swiftly.
From somewhere behind Ophelia, Gerlinde abruptly came flying through the air, drawing an arc nearly five meters in the air. She was drenched in blood, her clothes were ruined and rendered almost entirely indecent, and she was holding a weird long, curved implement of some kind in either hand. Not blades; these things had no edge, with the only vaguely dangerous thing about them being the fact that they ended in a point.
She landed on top of Arrayah, and plunged both of her weapons into her quarry to impart the force of her own descent. One of the strange curved spears, if one could call it that, managed to pin one of Arrayah's new wings to her back, disabling this new mode of movement. The other just pierced deep into the monster's abdomen through the back.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Pthumeru Yharnam layer, the Old Labyrinth

A_r R ^aY _a H

Rushing in with two quicksteps in rapid succession – which was necessary to catch up to Arrayah after the much longer quickstep-like move she had made to get to Ophelia – Farren delivered a swing with his glaive aimed at the back of their quarry. His slash struck true, carving a bloody gash across her flesh... which, he would doubtlessly notice, did not regenerate instantly the way her wounds had so far. Instead he would find that just like the wound he had shot at earlier, this one healed much more slowly, with the flesh around the injury starting to rapidly writhe and swell.

Shrieking with bestial rage, Arrayah set herself down on the floor to free up all four of her hands, only for her to start lashing with her claws out at a frenzied pace. Most of her attacks seemed random and aimless, with each arm almost seeming as though they were attacking blindly in separate directions, but the very first blow of one of her left hands was clearly aimed specifically at Farren, slashing down on top of him with her vicious talons.