His Red-Stained Wings
"Fly home quickly, my little Finch."
Important words, spoken with a sad smile. They were like the pure peal of a bell in the mire of my thoughts, made thick by fatigue. White paint drifted gently from the ceiling, tiny flakes that settled on my face and stung my eyes, yet I found I could not lift even a finger to clear the air. The creaking of wheels cast my discomfort aside, however, replacing it with fear, a reaction which elicited an amused chuckle from this figure now hunched over beside the slab. A slip of paper was tugged from my breast pocket, wizened hands turned it over and over, scrutinising,
"Ah yes…Paleblood." A growing smile bared yellowing teeth, "You've certainly come to the right place…from a certain point of view, at least!" The paper was tucked neatly back into place, "More important here in Yharnam than elsewhere, you may find, that. But where's an outsider like yourself to begin?" The wheelchair creaked ever closer, and the brim of that enormous hat lifted to reveal a most unwelcome visage. No eyes, no eyes…A glass flask appeared in those claw-like hands, and through it the world was a deep crimson, "Easy, with a bit of Yharnam blood of your own. But first…you'll be needing a contract." Neither pen nor ink were proffered with the paper, and I saw already my name scrawled at the top. A sharp pain bloomed on my right thumb, and icy fingers carefully pressed a bloody thumbprint on the dotted line. "Perfect," the visitor rolled up the contract, pausing only to glance at the name upon it, "All signed and sealed Mister, ah…Finch. Let's begin the transfusion, shall we?" The room began to swim, a palette of greys running together, "Whatever happens, you may think all merely a…bad dream." A low laugh was all that followed me down into the dark.
The tang of copper was on the air. So strong as to rouse me from my torpor. The stench was so powerful it threatened to choke me, yet still I could not move. Nor could I cry out in terror as I saw a dark pool spreading across the floorboards, a wellspring of blood that crept silently towards where I lay stricken. It was what emerged, though, that sent ice into my veins. Some flayed horror, a wolf in the shape of a man, strung with rags and soaked in blood, rose from the pool wearing a feral grin. Claws like knives stretched out…this beast seemed to be savouring every second of my terror. I felt a claw dent the skin of my cheek, a scream I could not release tore at my insides, until a terrible heat struck from where my eyes could not reach. The beast howled as flames ate at its hide, collapsing into the blood-pool and disappearing from whence it had come. I had no time to ponder on what force had delivered me, the shadows were rushing from every corner to smother me once again.
Cold. The candlesticks had faltered and faded in the time I had slept. Now, there came muted voices. The words were…nonsense. But to hear them sent a dull throb through my head, and then withered grey hands reached above the edge of the slab. Grasping, they dragged the rest of their twisted frames onto the slab, where I could only shake my head in anguish. More creatures appeared, their touch was ice and at last I managed to scream as all faded to black.
"Ahh, you've found yourselves a Hunter…"
In the third awakening, all came rushing back at once and I bolted upright with a yell. Those things had been everywhere, and yet now I was alone. The floor was pristine, if strewn with papers, with not a drop of blood to be seen. What had all that before been, then? A delusion? A bandage wrapped around my arm, stained and frayed. How long had I lain here, helpless? Where was here, for that matter? The room was quiet enough that I was able to hear my own frantic pulse. Dust covered all, rising in fine clouds as I climbed from the slab. My papers, satchel and gun were all missing, as was the silver brooch gifted by my Dearest. The door ahead was open, and led to a broad staircase whose foot lurked in oppressive gloom. I tread as lightly as one could, wincing at every faint creak.
Candlelight yet endured in the next room, showing to me many, many more operating tables. And between them…With wide eyes I peered from under my hood as I clung to the doorpost. Between the tables lay a mangled corpse, which twitched and jerked under the attentions of a hulking mass of fur and fangs. The beast's muzzle was dark with blood, its eyes a shining yellow-white. Beyond it lay another staircase. There would be no sneaking past it, as focused as it was on the carcass, even a light-footed Finch would surely attract its notice. Panic began to rear its frenzied head within me, for once the beast finished one meal it was sure to seek out another. I wished dearly for my pistol, and there was no suitable replacement to be found. To be unarmed against such a beast likely would not end well. An empty vial, red stains still spotting its interior, presented an opportunity. I crept as close as I dared, until I could smell the rank odour of blood and decay clinging to the wolf-beast's fur and…clothing. I tried not to think about that. Taking a deep breath, I hurled the bottle far across the room where it exploded against a shelf of yet more vials, sending the entire display to the floor in a hail of shards. The beast swung its twisted head up in an instant, then a powerful leap carried it over to the broken shelf. Seizing my chance, I leapt over the corpse, and my boots assailed every step in frantic flight to the doorway above.
A waning sun shone reluctantly upon a crowd of gravestones, I paused just long enough to hear the scrape of claws upon wood, and was flung forwards as the beast cannoned into me. The wolf creature tumbled from the impact, crashing into a headstone to land in a sprawl of freakish limbs. I scrambled to my feet and made a dash for a ruined iron gate. The beast was faster, however, and with a backhanded swipe sent me rolling to crash against a gnarled tree trunk. I leapt, scrambling to escape, but a clawed hand wrapped about my ankle like a vice, I heard bone creak and desperately kicked out with my other leg. My wild flailing managed to crack the beast across the brow, but it retaliated instantly to catch my bandaged arm betwixt its jaws. I screamed as the fangs plunged into my flesh, beating with my free hand at its face as my blood spattered upon the grass. Like a doll I was thrown back, and instantly the beast was upon me. I saw those claws come down, saw them slice my belly open in a spray of blood, ripping into me over and over. Agony was all I knew, until the beast's jaws opened my throat and the mottled sky was extinguished like a lone candle in a tomb.
"Welcome home, good Hunter…"
The pale orb of the moon hung vast above me. White flowers swayed to a breeze that seemed not to reach me as I lay upon unfeeling stone. All seemed to flow before my eyes, my hand blurring at the edges as I felt for the gaping rents in my throat and stomach. Nothing, not so much as a graze. I felt feather-light sitting up, where I then saw a modest house resting atop the hill. Everywhere the flowers danced, each pristine and perfect, as I tread carefully up the path. Orange light shone beyond the open door. The crackling of flames in the grate brought only a meagre warmth to my limbs, but the sight alone was comforting.
"Ahh, a new face joins the Hunt, hmm?" Another low chuckle, "A nervous little thing," the new voice observed, after I stumbled over a pile of books in my shock, "You'll need to strengthen that spine, lad, if you mean to survive the Hunt with your wits intact."
"Where…am I?" I asked as my eyes roved the room, resting with unease on the wide array of very sharp blades hanging above a workbench, "I…I remember a graveyard, and some huge beast it…I felt it tear me open!" I started once more as a walking cane thudded on the floorboards,
"If you'd stop snivelling for a moment, lad, I might be able to help you! This," the stranger moved into view now, again in a wheelchair, the old man waved his free hand in a broad arc, "is the Hunter's Dream. It is a sanctuary, a place of rest and preparation. And I, since you seem to lack manners as well as resolve, am…Gehrman, a watcher over Hunters." Hunter's Dream? This is no dream as I have dreamt before. Either way, I have no time for whatever nonsense this antique is peddling,
"I am no Hunter, I have a mission of my own."
"And you're doing a magnificent job of it so far!" Gehrman cackled, "As if you were the first to seek out lonely Yharnam and its arts! No, the only way out is through, through the night of the Hunt and rivers of beastly blood. It's what you agreed to, after all." From his tattered sleeve, Gehrman produced a roll of paper, "It always pays to read the fine print, eh?" I scowled at that bloody thumbprint as the old man laughed. Fine. Jaw tight I turned my face back to Gehrman,
"How long must I hunt?"
"As long as the night lasts, lad! We only wake come the dawn, do we not?" Gehrman lay his cane across his knees and, wheeling himself towards the workbench, beckoned me forward, "Ah, now to business! A Hunter deals in death and your bare fists won't be up to the task." A heavy pistol was pushed into my hand, "This won't stop a rampaging beast, but a bullet to its face ought to give any fool the opening they need. For that…" Gehrman hefted a thick crescent of steel, one edge honed like a razor, the other adorned with vicious metal teeth, "…you'll want one of these." The thing was so crude, and yet so perfect for its intended use I felt myself almost admiring it. Gehrman laughed again, "If the sight of a Hunter's weapon doesn't turn the stomach, it isn't doing its job." But my eyes were instead drawn to a sturdy metal cane hidden amongst the mess of blades, and Gehrman for the first time seemed surprised, "Well, a Hunt is e'er full of the unexpected," he picked the cane from its hook and proffered it, "do try not to slice off your own arm with it." I took the cane, and immediately my arm dropped, "Heh, a little weightier than this," Gehrman tapped his own cane against his boot. His voice took on a more exasperated tone then, "Just go and slaughter some beasts, dawn will take care of itself. This Dream and this workshop are for you to use as you wish." I barely caught Gerhman's last whispered words as he turned away, but it sent a shiver down my back all the same "even the doll, should it please you."
Doll?
This Dream, if that is what this realm truly was, seemed a very restful place. The rustle of curled leaves in the trees, the swaying of the flowers, even the rolling mist beyond all seemed geared towards setting a tranquil mood. Only the headstones that passed one at a time…
"Hello, good Hunter," I nearly launched the threaded cane into the mist beyond, and admit to yelping as might a frightened pup. Between my crossed arms, I made out the form of a woman, standing patiently beside a flowerbed. If my childish shriek had disconcerted her in any way, she gave no sign, merely presenting me with a small smile. I lowered my arms, and straightened my coat, to see if I cannot salvage whatever dignity remains to me,
"H-hello. I ah…hope I didn't startle you just now. Are you a watcher, like…Gehrman?" Her skin was incredibly pale, her hands were…porcelain.
Even the doll…
"I am a doll, here in this dream to look after you." Her face, motionless ceramic, nonetheless seemed benevolent. This surely must be a dream, if dolls are talking to me now. But what can I do but play along? "Can you tell me how I might…leave, this dream?" The Doll laughed lightly, or at least, a laugh came from within her, for her mouth never moved, "Why, good Hunter, you must awaken. You will hunt beasts, and bring the echoes in their blood back with you to this dream. I will use them to embolden your sickly spirit. Such are our parts in this play, this Hunt." She then produced a set of clothes, heavy leather, and a three-cornered hat, "If you walk as part of the Hunt, you must wear a Hunter's attire. I hope you are light on your feet." Her many-jointed hand swung out to indicate the first headstone, crowded with those tiny grey beings, "The little ones will guide you. Farewell, good Hunter, may you find your worth in the waking world." I shivered once more at her frozen features, and knelt before the headstone. Then, the sensation of falling took me, and all turned to black once again.
The pale glow of a lantern illuminated the dank surgery. I could hear already the feasting of freakish jaws upon a carcass. Hastily I donned the Hunter's garb, setting the hat firmly upon my head. The threaded cane felt heavy still, alien to my hand, but it was welcome all the same. Despite my new accoutrements, however, the tattered sky and ashen sun did not beckon with amiable intent. I hoped this night, this Hunt, would be short, I had to fly swiftly home to my Dearest, who waited so fondly and forlorn. But those thoughts I pushed aside for the moment, before me lay a rather more immediate concern. Leather creaked as I tightened my grip on the cane, and I strode with new purpose towards the first of my prey.
The threaded cane slammed into the beast's skull with a loud crunch, and blood sprayed upon the floor of the surgery. The wolf-creature snapped at empty air, dazed by the impact, but I felt the flutter of air even so. My new coat flared as I whirled to strike at its legs, only for a clawed hand to rake across my chest, adding my own blood to the boards. I leapt to evade a second swipe, only for the beast's claws to catch my coat. Those twisted limbs had a strength that belied their gangly appearance, and my feet left the floor as the room blurred. The wall struck me hard in the back, banishing the breath from my lungs. The wolf's jaws unfolded to wrap once again around my throat, only to meet a bullet coming the other way. A yelp preceded its head crashing to the floorboards. Reversing my grip on the cane, I plunged the Hunter weapon through the crown of the beast's skull. Blood sprayed from the wolf's gaping mouth, its legs twitched and jerked in shock, before going still.
My chest felt fit to burst, and I gusted out a breath I hadn't known I'd been holding. The stink of blood was everywhere, a crimson skin upon my coat, my trousers and boots. The cane was sullied with blood and fur, held in a shaking hand. The room swam before my eyes, my hand left the slickness of blood upon my brow. I slid down the wall and sat hunched over, staring for a long time into the rictus grin of the wolf-beast, until my heart calmed itself.
The sun still lurked between the spires as I walked again through that graveyard. The gate, this time, was not barred to me, through it lay Yharnam, in all its tarnished glory. To greet me first was a crashed carriage, half overturned, with its windows shattered and yet still a grand sight. Much like the city itself, I mused, looking out at the forest of towers glowing dully before the dusk. A second carriage lay ahead, and behind it I saw a ladder climbing to the rooftops, A Finch would do well to begin his Hunt from such a lofty vantage. But as I reached the next carriage, my ears caught the chink of metal upon stone, and of uneven footsteps. I kept my steps light, and saw a stranger with his back to me, bearing a torch aloft and dragging a heavy axe across the cobbles.
Another Hunter, perhaps?
Gehrman neither mentioned whether I might encounter other Hunters, nor whether I should count them as allies. But before I could make my choice, a broken bottle found the sole of my boot, and the crunch of glass split the quiet. I never got the chance to see properly the man's face, but his inhuman yell as he brought his axe around told me enough. I leapt aside as the blade smashed the carriage door to splinters, and brought my pistol up. This twisted creature stabbed his torch into my outstretched arm, crying,
"You…are not wanted 'ere!" And I screamed as my shot vanished into empty air. I punished his attack with the cane, the metal gouging his belly, and immediately the searing pain in my arm ceased. I saw flawless skin through the smouldering hole in my sleeve,
Interesting…
But the axe interrupted my confusion, the creature bared yellow teeth to chastise me once more, "You flea-bitten wretch!" I ducked inside the swing, bringing my right arm up and back in one fluid motion. The point of the cane arrowed forth, skewered the man's throat and exploded from the other side in a fountain of blood. Shock fluttered across his ruined face in the instant before his eyes glassed over. His collapse freed the cane, now completely dark with blood. I made no effort to clean it, there were undoubtedly others such as this poor wretch, too far gone in their affliction to help in any other manner. I began my ascent of the ladder, only for a blood-curdling shriek to echo from between the towers. My mind reeled from the thought of what form of beast had made such a noise, I could but hope I remained beneath its notice.
Another lamp awaited me beyond the top of the ladder, and by its humble glow I could see now the great splashes of blood adorning my garb, filling the air with an inescapable coppery tang. I scrubbed at my sleeves and trousers as I scanned the clearing, and my eyes alighted upon a second lantern, breathing a red smoke into the air. It shone outside a window, and upon approaching it I made out the form of a man slumped upon the sill. I knew he yet lived for his body was wracked by fits of terrible coughing. But his eyes were quick, and darted to me as I rapped upon the glass,
"Ahh, you would be…one of the Hunters. I…I salute you," I pulled the cloth from my face with a glad smile,
"Aye, and you speak as one of my own countrymen!" A brief flicker of joy was his reaction, and he clutched his chest as he replied,
"Good to see you haven't…lost your mind just yet, my lad. If you seek… shelter here, I'm afraid I…cannot help you. I'm contagious…this plague, this beastly scourge…has me…in its grip!" He fell to another fit of coughing, "I know not…what you hope to find…here, but please…tread carefully, I would hate to see…more suffering come to…come to…!" His coughs were now punctuated by sobs of pain, "Go, young one! I'm beyond any skill of yours! Fair fortune…in your Hunt…" My heart sank at the despair in his voice, but I could only do as he bade me. After all, I had only scratched the surface of this horror-filled maze.
To my right a stairway led down, where across a bridge I saw a passage blocked by crates. At my approach, the crates burst apart into wooden shards and another man-creature roared from the murk, swinging a vicious-looking sickle in frenzied arcs. As the weapon sang past my face, I leapt to hurl my booted foot up into his stomach. The man gasped and his body was flung forward, to impale himself upon the cane as it stabbed upward to meet him. I whirled and drops of blood were flung from the Hunter weapon until it slammed into his neck, breaking it with ease. Blood had gushed from the stab wound to cover my gloved hand, playing a staccato rhythm as it dripped onto the cobblestones. Down the passage stood another beast, this time bearing a shield. Whether he was distracted or simply no longer aware, the fiend never noticed my cautious approach until I looked almost over his shoulder.
I drew back the cane, my arm primed like the hammer of a gun before the trigger is pulled, until I put all my power behind it and drove the cane into his back. The man howled in agony and fell to his knees. Not wasting a moment, as if by instinct I plunged my hand into the wound, seized a fistful of viscera and ripped it from his body in a crimson torrent. The creature folded up without a sound, leaving me staring in horror at the dripping mess I clutched in my fist. I threw it down in an instant, my legs growing weak, the cane falling to the stones as I heaved the meagre remnants of my last meal upon the ground.
Is this the Hunt as Gehrman knows it?! Is the city so befouled that blood is the only thing that may cleanse it?!
I rose to the sound of footsteps and the smell of flame. In the street below, a mob of beast-men staggered in a freakish procession. Rakes, axes, cleavers and clubs waved in twisted hands. There were dozens of them, shambling along and muttering without pause. I crept down more stairs to street level, until I followed closely behind the rearmost fiend, the cane poised again to strike him in the back. Then a howl of rage broke my focus,
"This is all your fault!" And a cleaver bit deep into my side. A cry of pain had barely left me as the cane took its revenge, once again the agony of my wound vanished, but now every beast of the mob had turned to face me. An axe knocked the cane aside before a shield flung me back, and as I rolled my fingers caught upon something in the cane's handle. The stout metal immediately collapsed, uncoiling into a long whip, adorned with razor-sharp segments of steel. I felt a grin spread upon my face, and the whip drew sparks upon the cobbles as I flourished it.
Now this…is much more like it.
The bladed whip opened two throats in the first swing. I shut my eyes as the red rain struck me, and paid for it when a sickle sank into my shoulder. Howling in mad triumph, the beast-man pulled me onto an up-swinging axe. I felt steel tear into my innards, breath stolen from my lungs.
Forgive me, my Dearest, I have failed y-
Lantern light shone upon my waxen visage, a pitiless sky speared by dark towers my only greeting. No wound lingered upon me, no pain, or blood to stain my garb. Sitting up, I saw in the window a familiar shape, that of the sickened man, still choking on the plague. There was the sun also, ashen and weary, just as it had been before. What is this? Was all that before just another dream? But I awoke! From that Hunter's Dream, and the doll! The cane and the pistol lay at my feet, beckoning silently. I remembered then the words of Gehrman,
"The only way out is through, through the night of the Hunt and rivers of beastly blood." Gathering my weapons, I set off once again down the passage. Across the bridge, the madman swung his sickle as he charged. The cane broke his arm and skewered him, and I stood over the corpse numbed as though by winter's bite. I knew that face, I remembered his eyes filling with fear, I remembered killing him and yet there he lay, slaughtered anew. Would he reawaken too? Would he remember our previous meeting, as I did?
Strange times…
The great mob of beast-folk trudged along as I had left them. With a flick of my wrist, the whip uncoiled, and I laid open the back of the nearest fiend in a shower of blood. This time I did not relent, flogging the horde with swing after savage swing. Soon there was more blood upon the stones than rainwater yet still they kept coming. Blades pierced me and flame charred my clothes, so I punished their grievances with lashes of the whip, letting beastly blood wash away the pain. My pace forward was measured but constant, boots soaked in crimson marched through a mire of gore and flayed corpses. I saw again the look of fear in wild, bloodshot eyes. How must I seem to them? Some faceless, blood-soaked horror with a whip? This…thing, which just won't be stopped? Or perhaps they were too far gone now, for such thoughts.
Around another wrecked carriage, the stench of cooking flesh and woodsmoke smothered the stink of blood. A great beast, fully transformed, was crucified above a roaring pyre. Its hindquarters now naught but charred bones, the beast's jaws gaped wide in death, as did its sole remaining eye, shining pale like the moon. Gathered around it was another crowd, much larger than the mob from before. This would require a more subtle approach. An elevated walkway offered a vantage from relative stealth. The few stragglers I dealt with easily enough. The last fool had chosen to stand with his back to me; I sowed his innards upon the pavement. A few thrown stones served to lure lone beasts away from the crowd, into shadowed corners where the cane could do its work unnoticed. All was going smoothly, if not for the hound…
My ears rang with a loud barking, some starved dog had scented me and now the horde turned as one to face me. A bullet struck sparks on the wall beside my head. I spun and let my momentum carry the steel segments through three throats. A bottle rolled from the coat of a beastman as his headless corpse collapsed. Rolling to evade another bullet, my hand found the bottle filled with oily liquid. I hurled it up and over the front line, where it exploded in a flower of flame, covering the crowd. Screams and howls of agony echoed off the walls, and I pressed my advantage, slicing and lashing at all before me. I made sure to drag the whip through some of the clinging flame, wielding a burning weapon against the rest. A third bullet carved a line of red across my cheek, I ran along the opposite pavement, ducked beneath a swinging rake to crash against the rifleman standing atop a carriage. We plunged together to the pavement, the tip of the cane stabbing into the dirt. The beast's twitching body grew still, and the cane stood up on its own between his eyes.
I looked up, my breath ragged, chest heaving. The mob had scattered, I heard panicked yelps fading down alleys until only the drip of water broke the silence. The street made for a traumatic scene, bodies mangled and torn were strewn from one side of the street to the other. A trail of blood, severed limbs and spilled guts followed me from the lantern. Twisted men and women, gone to beasthood, slain in the dozens. I pulled the cane free, my grip sure, the metal nearly indistinguishable beneath the blood, and washed it in the cleanest puddle I could find. I saw my gloves, too, were stained with blood, and scrubbed hard at the leather. My boots were next, I felt my breathing quicken, the scrubbing grow feverish, I felt the tears come; imagined them leaving trails of clear skin down my red-stained face.
Rivers of beastly blood…
So this is how it must go, this was the Hunt. I straightened up, and followed the only passage open to me. Beyond lay an open space, a courtyard planted with skeletal trees and an impressive fountain, run dry. There was a roar, human and yet not, and I felt a shudder strike me at the sight. A hulking figure, grown and twisted beyond proportion, seeming more like an ogre than a wolf, was hammering upon a barred gate. Treading carefully, I put the fountain between us and moved toward another window lit by a red lantern. Light shone from within, framing a small figure curled up on the sill. A child? I prayed briefly to the Lords that she was untouched by the plague, for my heart could not bear the alternative, and hastily cleaned my face before tapping tentatively upon the pane. A small, pale face looked up, eyes wide with fear, for I could have been anyone, anything. I raised my hand in a brief wave, which led the ghost of a smile to briefly alight upon her face,
"Who…are you?" I endeavoured to steady my voice as I replied,
"My name is Finch, I'm a traveller from beyond Yharnam," The child turned her head away, but her gaze and tone were thick with suspicion,
"I don't know your voice, but I know that smell," sheepishly I scrubbed again at my coat, "are you a Hunter?" Her eyes drifted to the cane, which I lowered carefully,
"It was not a choice made lightly, but aye, a Hunter I am." Instead of the fear and disgust I'd expected, the girl's eyes shone with sudden tears,
"Then, please will you find my mother? Father never returned from the Hunt and she went to find him, now she's…I'm all alone, and scared!"
"So am I." I replied, then frowned at having spoken aloud without realising.
"A Hunter is never scared, you fight the beasts, just like Father!" I looked sadly at the cane, clean now and shining,
"I'm not scared of the beasts, they're sick and this is…this is only way to help them, I'm afraid of…agh, you are too young to understand. But I will find your mother, little one, if I can." Her small face lit up at my promise,
"Really? Oh, thank you! S-she wears a red-jewelled brooch, it's so big and beautiful; you couldn't miss it! Oh…" She reached behind her, and held up a small wooden box, "if you find her, bring her this music box," The pane creaked open just enough for her small hand to place the box on the outer sill, "it plays one of Father's favourite songs, we play it when he forgets us, so he remembers. She's silly to run off without it!" I took the box carefully, turned the key and opened the lid. A simple melody began to play, one that spoke of evenings sat together before the hearth, of a family…There was tightness in my chest as I looked up again,
"It's…a nice song. Be safe, little one, perhaps stay back from the windows, I'll see if I can bring your mother back safe." I waved again as I retreated, one which she returned with a sad smile and the parting words,
"Good luck, mister Finch. Please don't be afraid." I nodded before turning away, spirit emboldened with a new purpose. Lords let her mother be alive, let some joy find me before the night is done.
A trail of blood and broken bodies followed in my wake from the fountain yard. Another door lit by a red lantern passed me by, though all I heard within was a frantic, torturous laughter, and moved quickly on my way. A long causeway unrolled before me, cluttered with discarded luggage, carriages, and stack upon stack of coffins. Even though I kept my distance, I saw a few had been bound in heavy chains, for reasons I refused to contemplate. Across the bridge lay a gateway to the soaring Cathedral district. Again I felt the call of the sky, to be high above where I might better see these hunting grounds. All that barred my way were a pair of slavering wolf-beasts. I allowed them to glimpse me, a hound will attack if it senses fear after all. But before they could pounce, another bottle of oil curved through the air. I took aim, and the bullet caught at black fur as it flew to its target.
The flask detonated above the cobbles, showering both creatures with clinging fire. Thrashing and howling in pain, the beasts suffered the whip's bite over and over. I don't remember when I began to shout at them, only the taste of the blood flying into my face,
"You will not have me! Do you hear?!" I broke forelimbs with the cane, shattered jawbones and flayed skin from flesh with the whip's metal teeth, my voice cracking with each strike, "You will not have me!" The skyline came back into focus as the beast choked its last at my feet. I kicked the corpse aside and continued along the bridge. A flurry of wings sent dust into my eyes and I felt sharp talons rake my arms and shoulders. The whip smote the crows from the sky just in time for another giant to knock me into the carriage with tremendous force.
I halted the beast's next charge with a blast from the pistol, leaping back as my arm swung out. The whip shimmered silver as it reached out, to coil about the ogre's neck. I jerked my arm back and the snare tightened with the hiss of steel upon steel. The beast roared, in pain and outrage, but his mutated fingers could not pry the whip's teeth loose. His strength was prodigious, but the noose only grew closer about his throat as he thrashed in panic. Blood was pouring from his neck now, I heard a low growl emanate from my own mouth as I heaved on the whip one final time and heard bone snap. The brute crashed to the ground, I pulled the whip free as I stepped over his corpse. The spreading pool of crimson rippled beneath my quiet tread.
I was out on the bridge now, beyond the stone barriers the world dropped into a pit of darkness. Ahead lay a shadowed gateway, a stern lattice of wrought iron that denied all entry to the upper streets. Still I felt the call to the sky, and where the Cathedral lay, so too must the leaders of this Healing Church. Passing through the arch led me to be startled once more, by a low voice scraping across the cold air,
"One more whelp thrown into the fray, I see." A lean rake of a man leant against the wall in the arch's shadow, tattered clothes hung from him like sheets put out to dry, and beneath a wide-brimmed hat, I could discern only frayed strips of cloth crossing over his eyes. "What do you seek in the Cathedral Ward, to brave this crossing?" The axe leaning beside him caught my eye, the crescent blade tarnished with old bloodstains, tufts of hair and wisps of cloth, the sight made me shiver before I gave my answer,
"The Healing Church and its arts lie beyond. I am bidden to the highest ranks of the clergy, to beg for their aid." The Hunter bared greying teeth in a feral laugh, I tried hard not to lean back as his breath soured the air,
"Ha, you think those gates kept the scourge out?" The stranger took up his long-handled axe, "The clerics turned long ago, whelp, their faith rewarded by becoming the most twisted beasts of all," at that moment a shriek pierced the quiet, and I felt the stones underfoot begin to tremble. The stranger's teeth parted in another low laugh, "As you'll soon discover, little bird." I felt his gaze on me as I left the shelter of the arch, the cane poised to smite whatever horror lunged for me this time.
A clawed hand fit to encase my head wrapped over the rampart above the gate, and the form that heaved itself into view numbed every nerve I possessed. Long scarecrow limbs lurched across the stones, one arm was grossly engorged and wreathed in black hair, and atop it all was a grinning deer-skull face adorned with twisted black antlers. Around the neck was the shredded remains of a white robe, the robe of a cleric, maybe? More than that I had no time to contemplate, as the thing shrieked a challenge and charged. The mutant arm swung down, catching the hem of my coat as I leapt forward. The cane lashed out, slicing the beast's calf. No time was given for a second strike, and I was forced to dash away or be crushed underfoot. Howling in frustration, the Cleric beast slammed its freakish fists upon the cobbles, clawing at my heels as I fled. A split second was my opening and the whip uncoiled with a rattle of steel teeth. I flung out my arm and the whip snapped tight around one of the beast's legs. With all my might I pulled, wrenching the creature's foot from under it, until the beast crashed to the ground. The cane re-formed, and I plunged it towards the Cleric beast's unguarded flank. But the twisted arm swept around and the frigid air rushed past until my back collided with a statue and light exploded across my vision.
Blind and confused, I barely felt the claws seize my arm until I was hurled once again, thudding into the stone over and over. My right hand was empty, the bridge swam as I searched desperately, where was the cane?! The beast barrelled towards me, no doubt seeing itself reflected in my terror-wide eyes. I screamed and raised my pistol in panic, the report was followed by the most Lords-forsaken screech I had yet heard. The thing was clutching its face as it dropped forward. Instinct took me and I stabbed my hand into the mess of eyes and teeth…and pulled. Bone popped and cracked, eyes ruptured and skin ripped free. The Cleric beast screamed and screamed as it staggered about blindly, destroying statues and carriages in its agony. What remained of its face looked like a burst seed-casing, splinters of bone spreading like ivory petals. The eyes that remained rolled to focus on me, my sleeve dark to my shoulder. The claws were a blur, frenzied by pain and hate, and I felt my skin tear from my body in strips. My own blood joined that of the beast upon the cobbles. The whip avenged my injuries, and the beast's blood rained upon me, washing my ruined flesh clean of its hurts.
I leapt back, and the clawed hands cracked the stones before me. I levelled the pistol at the creature's ruined visage and fired again, sending a great arc of blood out across the air. Its scream pierced my skull like a white-hot knife, and in its throes I was flung back even as my arm lashed out. The whip snapped taut, the handle ripped from my grasp until I crashed against the stone arch. Blood stained my cheek as I struggled to raise my head, the moon and sky were obscured by blackness as the beast's fist crushed me into the cobblestones.
I glared at the smoky sky that met me upon awakening. Picking myself off the floor, I set off once more along that ravaged street, while all of Yharnam threw itself in snarling frenzy upon me. Back and forth, back and forth the threaded cane lashed. Bullets bit into me, flame seared my skin and claws drew lines of red in my flesh and still I marched on, slashing with teeth bared, unheeding of the blood spraying into my face. In the fountain yard the ogre came for me. The whip dragged him down, then I re-formed it as the cane in time to skewer him up under the chin and into the brain. At last I stood again at the stone arch. The Cleric beast bellowed its challenge, and I stepped forth once again to meet my foe. Steel bit deep into freakish limbs and my bullets made a ruin again of its face while we danced to and fro to the beast's discordant screaming. Bone crunched beneath the cane's assault, claws raked my arms and back before fresh blood washed the wounds away. I struck hard at the creature's legs in quick succession and it collapsed with a howl to the stone. Vaulting onto its back, I uncoiled the whip. The steel teeth glinted orange before the setting sun as I swung it under and around the beast's neck and seized the other end like the reins of a horse. The Cleric beast staggered upright and I let myself fall back, fall until the teeth caught its flesh to let blood flow free. Howling in outrage, the creature flailed and trampled along the bridge, all while the bladed whip sawed deeper and deeper.
The screeching soon gave way to the distressed gasps of the choking man, then to a dull gurgle as blood filled the lungs. So sure was I in my victory that I did not see its grasping fingers, and then the scene was a blur of grey. The Cleric beast breathed its last upon the bridge wall, until its bulk carried it over the edge. Whether I screamed or not, I cannot recall, but I remember well the roofs charging upwards to greet me, hearing the crack of roof shingles, and the last glimpse of a fading sun before my waking mind was extinguished like a blown candle.