The Hunter and The Surgeon
Within the sky's center lay a blood moon. It's surface was as bright red as the pool of sickened blood at the feet of the cathedral's threshold. For this night was the hunt. A deadly game for those who seek the end of the sickness. The end of tainted blood and those crazed with eyes. However, the deeds for finishing the hunt do not belong to whom our tale revolves. No indeed. Old Yarnham holds others who seek deeds of great value to the hunting night.
A breeze flicked through the streets of Yarnham. It brought the stench of fire, blood, the sickened coughs of wild men with fleas in their gnarled beards. It blew until it faded away at the foot of a looking figure. He was thin and wore a thick overcoat. His hands were covered with the blood of the beast that lie slain at his feet. The figure's face was covered by a linen mask and he wore a strange hat. The hunter pulled from the beast's skull a large and crude axe. It was a common weapon amongst hunters when they were once numerous. The Hunter retracted the long handle of which the blade hung and rested it upon his back. He turned towards the cathedral and closed the doors, "the one who seeks the end of the hunt. Shall find his way here. May the skull not be disturbed." With that he turned back toward Yarnham and began to walk down the long stairway. The tops of the buildings rose and hung over the city roads like dreadful spindles. Within the dark alleys of Old Yarnham the hunter strode. He approached a crossroad with no lit buildings, and a great many figures standing still in the center. Some held torches and axes while others bore swords or rifles. All of them had a crazed look in their dirty, yellowed eyes. Each of them had long scruffy beards that had a foul odor about them. Though they stood like the once proud men they were the hunter knew these were no longer men at all. In his eyes he could only see men taken by the sickness, with their brains addled and no longer sane. The crowd of figures began to move slowly swaying to and fro with each step. The hunter removed his axe from his back along with a blunderbuss he had kept strapped to his belt. He tightened his grip and charged the small horde. It took a moment before the savage men realized one of their own had taken an axe to the gut. But by the time they did realize what had just happened the hunter had already taken two others down with a blast from his blunderbuss. One of the men took a swing at the hunter with a sword, however the hunter's senses were keen and he was nimble. He quickly dodged the swipe and stuck his axe deep into the sickened man's back. The man fell and the hunter finished off the last of them with a sideswipe across the throat. The stench of tainted blood came fresh and was horrific to the senses. It stung the hunters eyes and sinuses along with bringing forward the stench of the dead corpses. He knelt down to search his kills for anything useful though all he found were some quicksilver bullets, useful but he had plenty. The hunter rose from the pile of bodies and was about to continue to walk away when there came a sound familiar to his ears. A horrid snarl came from a nearby alleyway that was draped in shadow. The hunter stood still for a moment and contemplated if what he was hearing was in fact what he thought. He looked towards the alley in which the sound was heard and in the gloom of night he saw what he dreaded most. Within the shadows was a silhouette. It was larger than any man yet seemed crouched. The silhouette moved slowly towards the hunter and its large eyes gleamed where no light was shown. The hunter readied himself and stood as tall as he could. The creature then stepped forward with large strides. Each footstep thumped largely against the cobblestone road. The hunter raised his gun and the creature growled angrily as it came into the moonlight. All with a sane mind would shiver at the sight of the creature that stepped forward. Indeed the hunter was not so certain how he would survive the unpredictable nature of the beast before him. The moon revealed large talon like fingers. The large hands which were revealed to be connected to unusually large and bony arms. But the snarling came from the rest of the beast that came forward to light. It crawled on all fours and was horrifically disfigured. Upon its face was a large snout and an open mouth that leaked saliva. It was a werewolf, a mindless killing creature hell bent on feasting upon its newly found prey. It growled angrily at the hunter. Taking no chance for it to make the first move he quickly shot his gun and sent many bullets ripping through the beasts flesh. It jolted back a moment as the bullets hit its face, but the beast did not fall. It became enraged and leapt towards the hunter at full speed. Though the hunter was quick to dodge the full front attack the beast knocked the blunderbuss from his hand as it swiped to its right. The hunter stumbled a moment and extended the pole of which his axe hung. He looked like a reaper of death waiting to claim his next victim, but the werewolf was unmoved. It caught the smell of fear and pounced towards the hunter but not before the axe came swinging into the beasts shoulder. The werewolf howled in pain and now limped as its shoulder was cloven in two. The hunter then came again and swung the blade down for a final blow when the beast dodged to the right and smacked the hunter onto his back. Before the hunter could react the beast was now on top of him and it had pinned his arm that held the axe. The beasts jaw came down furiously but didn't expect to find that his mouth was now full of metal. The hunter had managed to grab his blunderbuss as the giant wolf had unknowingly knocked him down next to it. In that instant everything had changed for that small brawl. The hunter pulled the trigger and sent a large portion of the beast's brain matter across the ground and bloodstained buildings. The beast collapsed dead next to him and the smell of blood only intensified. The hunter sat up and contemplated for a moment of what just happened. Was he still alive? Did the beast kill him and he is only now in the nightmare for hunters?
"It is a nightmare," he thought to himself, "but alas I'm not dead. Not yet. Though how long before the taint effects me. I wonder."
The purpose of a hunter is simply put within their title. They are to hunt the deadly beasts that have sprouted amongst Yarnham's corrupted cobblestones. The beast our hunter sought particularly was once a dear friend of his. He was a cleric before falling to the curse ravaging the city. The cleric was horribly deformed and far larger than any man and werewolf. When standing upon two legs the Cleric Beast was about 35 feet tall and 18 feet wide. It had disproportionately long arms and shrieked a shrill noise that pierced the heart of any man. Other monstrosities within the city dared not attempt to challenge the Cleric Beast as they knew the wrath that had ensnared its mind.
The hunter left the dark alley and entered a large open area of Yarnham. It was a circular courtyard with a black bar fence along the outside of the courtyard. Within the middle of the courtyard stood a large statue of a crying woman. It was the color of obsidian and gleamed in the moonlight. The hunter stood before it and reflected on old memories of him and his wife. Long before the hunt, the hunters, and when the city was prosperous. A time when miracles occurred. But soon a sound broke his concentration and he readied his weapons yet again. However, instead of a beast or crazed man appearing before our dear hunter, a man adorned in hunter garbs came forward. He stopped shortly before our hunter and bowed. "My condolences fellow hunter. I did not mean to frighten you," the figure said. He continued, "I seek a beast that I was following. A werewolf had escaped my blade. I want to make sure it did not happen again. Have you seen it?" Our hunter replied briefly, "it's dead." The figure stepped toward the statue and spoke, "ahh then I thank you for putting an end to said beast." The figure took off his fedora and stood next to our hunter. "Allow me to introduce myself," the figure said. "I am called Finch. Well my name is Finch though you probably have heard of my title rather than my name. The erm.." he paused and cleared his throats as he put his hat back on, "I am The Surgeon." Our hunter looked toward him slowly and replied, "never heard of him." The Surgeon brought forth a disappointed look on his face. "Very well then," he said, "well I suppose I should be on my way. I don't suppose a hunter of your stature would require any aid." The Surgeon replaced his hat upon his head when our hunter spoke. "I'm searching for the Cleric Beast. Have you by any chance heard of its whereabouts?" The Surgeon's face looked terrified at the mentioning of the great beast. "I'm afraid I have," he stated. "I saw it heading south towards modern Yarnham. Towards the Great Bridge I believe. But alas many enemies lie between here and there. That's assuming it remains there." The Surgeon's eyes flickered and met the hunter's "I saw it myself", he said in a raspy voice. "It was monstrous. The feathers and the shear size of it all. It wailed at the climbing moon and all fled before it. Even the dreaded werewolves." The Hunter looked southwards and saw on the horizon, between buildings, the great bridge of Central Yarnham. He began walking towards a flight of nearby stairs when The Surgeon spoke. "I think it would be beneficial for us both if I accompany you toward said beast." The hunter looked back at The Surgeon. "Why," he asked, "what do you want out of it?" The Surgeon stepped forward and declared, "my prey has been killed, as it had taken those closest to me. My life is now forfeit to the hunt. You seek to destroy a beast that has claimed many lives, both insane and, to a degree, less insane. Though you are skilled no doubt and definitely determined, I think it will take more than one hunter to take down the beast." The Hunter pondered a moment and sighed. He gestured towards The Surgeon and nodded. "Ahh very good," the Surgeon stated. He removed from under his cloak and off his belt a cane and a long pistol. The Surgeon then gave a somewhat menacing grin and walked towards the Hunter. "Well," the Surgeon chuckled, "the hunt presses on."