Liam snapped awake. Errant streams of water dripped down on his face, a puddle forming around his prone body as he tried to figure how long he'd been asleep.
Everything hurt, it was like he'd been on the wrong end of a Scourge Beast.
The Hunter groaned as he sat up, his lungs out of breath and limbs crackling like the husk of the ship beneath him. He staggered to his feet, falling to the side and retching on the floorboards as intense vertigo paralyzed him.
He wasn't sure if what he saw was truly a vision, or if he fell unconscious and the images were a product of his own imagination, but either way his mind felt drained. Taking several deep breaths, he looked to his arms, seeing the eldritch gauntlets were still there. At least his prize was real.
He placed a warm palm on his knee, pushing himself upright and finding his balance after a moment. Despite his state, the icy cold of the bay seemed fainter, and his heart found a stronger beat in his chest. Liam didn't know much about Blood Ministration, for a man who relied on it so heavily, but he knew the well of echoes now affixed to either arm was feeding him power. That was enough for him.
He heard voices echoing not far from him, and peered out the broken windows of the captain's quarters. The silhouettes of multiple Church Hunters bearing lanterns were emerging into the gloomy cove beneath the lighthouse, the moonlight falling on their backs as they shouted through the fading curtain of rain for the rest of their troupe.
Liam didn't know if his gauntlets were fair maidens or not, nor did he know if he could slip away before the Church hunters saw him. But he knew he had greater power than he could imagine at his fingertips and he wasn't giving it up for anyone.
He regarded the pile of weapons near him a moment and shook his head. Legends like Old man Gehrman, Maria Cainhurst, Ludwig the Holy Blade, and the Crow of Cainhurst could probably fight six hunters at a time and win, but as much as Liam hated to admit it he'd be slaughtered if he tried that himself.
None of his prospects were especially good, but facing the troupe was suicidal.
Liam shattered a window on the left side of the cabin, vaulting the windowsill and crouching down in the sands. He could faintly hear the other hunters remark on the noise, quickening their pace while Liam kept low and skirted around the hull and out of sight.
The soft crunch of their leather boots on the sand was replaced by boots meeting wet wood. Their footsteps ambled as everyone picked a different nook to inspect, including some right above his head. Liam realized that if someone looked over the side, they would see him.
Likewise, if they just looked inside the cabin, they would see the pillaged box, and know he was there for certain.
The boards above him creaked as a hunter inched even closer, leaning on the banister.
"Hey!"
Liam jumped, but he managed to restrain himself from crying out as the Church Hunter overhead turned towards the minister in the distance who called him. He started creeping away from Liam as the minister called a second time.
"The cargo hold's over here, or at least what's left of it."
"Do you think they would keep the relic under the floor like common Blood?"
"I don't know. But we can comb over the rest in a moment."
"Alright, Percy," He directed his voice down the hull, "I'll go help them. Search the deck here, see if anything survived the crash."
"I'll do my best, but I'll be rifling through splinters at this point."
"Just do it."
The hunters broke up and several footsteps retreated across the beach. Above, a hunter with a Threaded Cane hiked up his collar, bracing against the cold and half-heartedly wandering down the deck.
"Why does it have to be so bloody cold in 'ere." He grumbled to himself, flipping bodies over and looting their parasites and talismans. All the while, Liam stayed low and used the shadows of the rocks to cover his retreat. He remained vigilant of the prowling forms around him as he crept on his toes so the sands muffled his footfalls, while taking long strides to cover more distance.
Hunters didn't usually rely on stealth, but Liam managed to make it to the back wall, concealing himself with the dark, hugging the eroded rocks and moving around the long way. Fortune was on his side, as a few clouds hid the moon as he reached the edge of the cove, so the blackness obscured him enough to leave undetected. Before long, he was in the open air, working his way down the beach.
He kept his eyes to the cliffs, and cursed when he saw several grim figures, dogs in tow, working their way down the rocks. He couldn't go back the way he came, and if he kept going forward he would run right into them. He looked at the barren beach before him and violent seas to his side, finding only one place to hide.
Hesitantly, and with the utmost care not to alert the party descending on him, he waded into the water. The stormy seas nearly knocked him from his feet multiple times, the unforgiving waves throwing him back and forth. Strangely, as the gloves touched the water, he was filled with warmth and the waves didn't bother him as much, Liam finding his footing. He crouched and moved laterally across waves with only his head above the water to minimize his profile.
He covered his mouth, breathing through his nose while several waves crashed over the back of his neck, the immersion in the icy waters quickly numbing his skin. The party came into full view, walking down the beach in relative silence as Liam propelled himself to the side, slow and careful.
The hounds raised a fuss, sniffing at the shore and air, only to whine and stare expectantly at their hunter masters, who pulled them forward impatiently. Behind the smaller hunters, the behemoth of a man slowed to a stop, raising his head and slowly looking around. The ones in front of him stopped when they felt him fall back after a moment, and he turned towards the sea.
Liam froze as the giant's eyes lingered on the surface right by him. One shadow. One sound. That was all he needed now as the face beneath his broad-brimmed hat gazed intently at the water.
Could he feel them? Liam's gauntlets? The other hunters didn't seem to notice, but this one was locked right on them. He didn't raise the alarm, so Liam assumed he was unable to tell his dark attire from the black seas, but Liam couldn't shake the feeling the giant man knew he was there.
The hunter couldn't read his expression at that distance, especially since the Church Giants possessed a stony, warped face anyway. They could easily grow five meters in height so this one was still in the early stages of his transformation. But he still possessed the features and complexion of a zombie, his skin sickly pale and cracked, his eyes like black marbles. The characteristic hunch in his back was already forming, the spine and limbs twisting and elongating with the effort to support his uncontrolled growth.
"Master Rodger?" One of the priests called, "does something trouble you?"
The giant was silent for a few moments, before he turned away and ambled quietly,
"Only the call of the sea." He spoke, "You'll hear it too, sooner or later." The other hunters fell in behind Rodger as they continued to the cove.
Liam let out the breath he'd been holding since the beast rested his eyes on him. He was used to fighting things larger than himself, but that man frightened him terribly. If fortune was kind, they would never encounter each other again.
He pulled himself from the sea when he was sure they left, this time setting his pace to a brisk, northward jog. He remained focused on the beach and put the thoughts of the ship and the hunters behind him. For now, he was safe. It could potentially take hours for the Church to catch up with him. Maybe it would take hours for them to even realize the relic was missing. If he were optimistic about it, he would guess they would travel inland rather than following the sea.
In that time, he could find a place to settle down and catch up on his sleep, after which he would move even further out. Considering the ultimate fate of his prize, he felt a strange attachment to the gloves on his arms, their warming aura refreshing him on his trip. The intimacy he felt with them, and the echoes soothing his blood, it was rather rapturous… no, he knew they were more trouble than they were worth. The Choir was already desperate to find them, and upon spotting the obvious burglary the bounties would pile on his head.
The Healing Church was an institution of science and the foundation of Yharnum's religion and politics, so long as he remained in this region, it was only a matter of time before they found the girls… but he could protect them.
Liam snapped upright, his foot dipping into the rushing tide, the hunter heading a little further inland. He needed to get to sleep and refresh himself before he got too sloppy.
By the time he reached civilization, the rain finally stopped. The prevailing winds were now mercifully warm and dry, but the shift in climate soon had a great wall of fog drifting over the seas and countryside. The moonlight set the curtains of mist alight and the fog bell tolled the presence of a harbor, along with sharp, alternating whistles from the piers.
Liam felt a sigh of relief when the beach became a boardwalk, the whale oil lanterns burning brightly on the numerous storefronts, a few sailors comfortable enough to smoke and drink blood beneath the awnings of their small, sleepy town. Blacksmith forges lay dormant and cold. While the slaughterhouse was filled with whale bones and the reek of rotting blubber, every bloody tool was sitting idle.
With the weather lately, the grunts were no doubt enjoying the down-time as the shipping lanes ground a halt, which gave Liam ample breathing room. Afterall, who would go out of their way to bother him and waste a rare chance to shrug off their work?
He found the inn was still lit, opening the door and stepping through the threshold, taking a gust of hot air to the face as he pulled the door closed behind him.
He soon found every eye upon him, the grizzly sailors setting their playing cards by their blood cocktails, the accordions and drunken hymns going silent, and the innkeeper going still. The keeper was a tall man, a little shorter than Liam with great shoulders, a wool cap, and a thick, wild beard that was black as coal. The counter creaked as he placed his palms flat on the polished surface, his eyes meeting Liam's.
"Evenin'." He said, his breath thick with blood, "It looks like we got ourselves a hunter here, tonight." He noted, Liam becoming self-conscious of his raggedy, weathered look, and standing straight.
"I am, in fact."
"My, my, my. You look dreadful. Came upon a nasty beast in the night?"
"You could say that."
"Oh, I'm sure." He spoke, lifting a glass of cheap whisky and taking a swig, putting it down and wiping his mouth with the back of his furry hand. "I take it ya didn't read the door?"
"The door?"
"We don't serve hunters here. Especially tonight." He said, his tone getting on Liam's nerves, "Don't ya know? It's All Hallows Eve, when the dead are the most anxious to get out and prowl, and it's a full moon tonight. Nothin' but foul deeds and fouler things come skulking out of the woods at a time like this." He walked away from the desk, grabbing a glass, sipping it, and turning back around, "You're still 'ere? I told ya', piss off. Hunter's are only good for killin'. So go out and kill some beasts, but I won't have you getting blood all over my store."
"I'm tired, and I'm wet." Liam growled, "I'm the one keeping you from getting overrun by the scourge, you should treat me as such."
"My hero." He replied, "I've seen plenty of beasts. We all have. And never did I feel like you dancing monkeys with your guns and your knives make us the safer for spilling their blood everywhere. I don't owe you a thing. This is my house, and I'll throw anyone I want out'a it. If you have a problem, take it up with ma' boys." Liam heard a crack, several gentleman with paddles, knives, and even a blunderbuss rising from their seats, the innkeeper continuing. "We're honest folk 'ere. You can haunt the doorstep to keep the rain off ye', as long as you don't scare away any of my customers."
"Who do you think you are?"
"Who am I? I'm the master of this bloody establishment, that's who I am. And who are you? Looks to me me like you're a glorified vagrant, what with your…" He trailed off, Liam realizing his eyes were on the fair maidens, "Actually, stay still long enough to tell me what those are." He said, tilting his bottle towards them.
Liam was quiet a minute, "Nothing."
"I've seen a lot in my day and that doesn't bastarding look like nothin' to me."
"I found them."
"You found 'em? Just layin' around on the beach?"
"Yes. They must have washed ashore, because they were in a crate. I was hunting some beasts, and I chanced upon it half buried by sand, I guess the tide came in."
"The tide?" his eyebrows crinkling as he pondered aloud, "we've got lots of sailors here who know a thing or two about how dangerous these waters can get. There's a little cove not that far from here, beneath the old lighthouse. We call it 'Borrower's Cove', because with the way the waters are, things just seem to appear there, all these little bits and pieces of the things that go missing, on nights like this." He said, Liam's heart racing in his chest, "A little while ago, we got a note that said some cargo got lost near here, and to keep an eye out for anything funny. We get those time to time, merchants looking to find their lost goods, but this note was a little odd, ya' see. It was stamped with the sign of the Healing Church. They didn't say what it was or what it looked like, just that it was funny lookin'. Now, ya' didn't answer my question," He said, leaning in, "Where did ya' find those things?"
"Do they look funny to you?" Liam growled. The room was silent exempting the crackle of the fireplace for several moments.
"No, but they do look bloody ugly." One chimed in, the sailors letting up a tense laugh, joined by the innkeeper, who changed his tone as he placed a hand on the counter again,
"Alright, look 'ere." He said, "How about we compromise?"
"Compromise, with you?"
"Yeah, parlay and all that. I've got a slip of paper 'ere that says there's a boat that's gunna be full of Healing Church ministers coming in on the 'morrow. There's a handsome reward to anyone that helps 'em find whatever it is they lost, real handsome. Three barrels of blood. Sacramental blood, from Yharnum, and a favorable relationship with the vicars." He pointed to Liam's gauntlets, "you give us those, and you can have a room for a night, a week if you fancy it, and a cut of everything the good Church decides to give our little village. Come on? What else are you 'gunna do with 'em?"
Liam gave it serious thought a moment, and nodded, "I can't say if these belong to the Church or not, but I suppose I could stay and get it all sorted out."
"Wonderful, yeah?" The innkeeper said, going under the desk and grabbing a key. He reached over the counter and dropped it gingerly into Liam's hand. "Top step, first room ya' hit."
"Thank you for your cooperation." Liam said, walking away. He felt the eyes of everyone else on him a moment, before they went back to relaxing, the warm hall filling with mirth and music once more. Liam went to the top of the staircase in front of him, turning towards the first door on his immediate right. He could barely contain his laughter as he let himself in and shambled to the bed, stripping off his sopping wet leathers as he walked. The fools really believed he would stay for them? Let them take away even one scrap of what was rightfully his?
He would have to sleep lightly, but after catching a brief nap, he was going to let himself out of this stinking hole. They could deal with the Church on their own after that, but he was going to find a good place to settle down, find some weapons, and get back to hunting. He could see it now, with his limitless Echoes, he would fast become one of the strongest of all hunters, and nothing could take that away from him. Soon enough, he wouldn't even have to worry about the Church.
He hit the bed, rolling onto his back. He was tempted to take the girls off… gloves, the gloves off. Liam was having trouble seeing them as anything less than what they were... made it hard to lose their company… he almost immediately fell asleep... filled with warmth.
He dreamt like he did the first time he passed out, only these fancies were far greater. It resembled the floor of an ocean with all the water drained from it, though the tall grasses and corals of bone remained behind. The narrow walking path wove between these formations and bleached trees... the flanks standing as high as mountains. Creatures strange and wondrous drifted around aimlessly, the milky air so thick it was like walking through soapy foam which levitating invertebrates slithered through.
The sky was overcast with clouds of sulphur and dust partially blocking a colossal star's rays, the heat causing the oceans of gas teeming with strange insects and algae to fume. His frail human form would've been destroyed in an instant by the acidity of the landscape, long after his fragile mind ate itself out with dementia trying to define his surroundings.
He felt an intense yearning to return here… though he had never arrived, this will that nearly superimposed his own a keystone of the entire plane. A keystone that yearned to rebuild it.
As great as the sense of loss was, something whispering through the back of his mind told him that though the Nightmare came undone, another Nightmare could be dreamt into being to replace it. That was the nature of Great Ones, the Kin of the Cosmos. Their dreams were so powerful they became entire realities, able to outlive entire universes swirling in their fantasies.
Even death was just a gateway to another plane, only in having their Echoes of consciousness consumed could one of their magnitude be truly destroyed, but not really destroyed, simply transferred…
The hunter snapped awake, his heart and mind racing. He found himself believing the metal and blood adorning his arms were the Kin that he once dismissed. That these dreams, dreams so real he could reach out and touch them, were not figments of his imagination but realities so surreal they only appeared as such.
Maybe he was going mad. Maybe he was finally giving into the scourge. Or, just maybe he'd found a new purpose, one grander than he ever imagined for himself. These sister Great Ones had died, but not completely. They had pledged their allegiance to him, lending insight and power, and thanks to his dreams he knew why.
They desired exodus from the world Liam occupied, but they were too weak to dream up a Nightmare in which they were alive and able to commune freely. They needed Blood Echoes, the one true currency of life, and with the cosmos at their behest, it would not take many. Still, they could gain no Echoes if they had no body, therefore Liam would do it for them.
And when the Nightmare came, he would stand at the head of it, and have the power of a god at his fingertips.
He stood up from the bed and walked over to the window to gaze out at the foggy sea. The water was finally beginning to settle as the storm passed over for awhile, the full moon high on the horizon. For some reason, gazing at the moon made Liam terribly anxious, and he could not shake the feeling the moon was watching him back.
His eyes went to the docks outside where the people continued to enjoy the still evening, the storm finally passing over. A bit of movement caught his eye, and he saw the innkeeper standing alongside a few of his patrons, the group greeting a second band.
A band that was all too familiar.
The Church Hunters were lead by yet another patron and the hunters meeting up with the villagers. The dour Rodger stood high over the keeper, who gestured to his business and talked for a moment, before the giant patted him on the shoulder. The giant raised a long, elongated arm and pointed to the inn. In unison, the Hunters drew their weapons and closed in on Liam with great speed.
Those filthy sea rats sold me out! Liam shouted inwardly, grabbing his hunter's garb and hastily throwing it over his head, not bothering with his other clothing, as he'd have less than a minute before the hunters were breaking down his door.
What a horrible idea staying at the inn! Of course you couldn't trust anyone these days.
His hand went to the doorknob, Liam trying to push through but it didn't budge as he found it barred on the opposite end. He stood back from the door before ramming his shoulder against it. To his shock, he broke the door completely off its frame. He looked at his hands a moment, clenching his fists and feeling his newfound strength.
Many footsteps echoed up the stairwell, reminding Liam to take up arms, the hunter waiting at the top for them. It was then he realized, other than the high-ground, he had nothing to fight with, and regretted leaving his weapon behind so hastily.
When the first one of them emerged on top of the stairs, looking over his shoulder, he was hit by a broken door, Liam throwing the wooden slab like a javelin, stunning the unsuspecting hunter a moment.
Before he could react, Liam closed on the hunter with a swift bound, grabbing him by the face and slamming him into the wall. The hunter in his grasp made a sickening crunch as his head splattered brain matter over the wood, and with a swift motion the gloved hunter threw him back at the other hunters. Liam sprinted forward and jumped into them feet first, his strength sending all of them tumbling down the steps in a disorganized heap.
The hunter pulled his way out, rolling to his feet as the other hunters came to theirs. Liam grabbed a bottle of pungent blood and leapt forward, evading a falling Kirkhammer as he smashed the glass over the black clad hunter's face.
He went to use the broken bottle as a primitive shank against the stunned hunter, but his quarry jumped back into the stairs while two more flanked him. Liam narrowly evaded a sword at his side, the Holy Blade broken into its longsword form for greater maneuverability in the close quarters, the hunter falling back. He used his off hand to flip a dinner table at the group, buying himself a moment while the assassins scattered.
The quarters were far too narrow. He needed to go outside and try to draw them apart, else fall back to the wilderness. On that thought, Liam turned tail and ran for the door, his ears ringing as multiple gunshots rung out. Liam's stomach and hip sprayed blood as the giant bullets tore through his back, trying to throw off their aim by zigzagging the rest of the way to the door.
He crashed through the front entrance and into the square pavilion in front of the inn. There were hunters all around, Liam unable to tell if they brought more or if the group was simply larger than he thought. The giant stood in the background, looming over the groups of black-clad figures as they swooped in.
Liam's icy blue eyes were again blurry with the sweat on his brow, his head jerking back and forth as he was well and truly surrounded . For all the power he had, he was defenseless without a damned weapon. As he thought this, he felt as though the maidens were trying to speak to him, the blood rocks smoldering with power. With a quick glance he noticed the blood from the hunter who's head met the wall was leeching into the right-hand twin, the Echoes conveying their knowledge.
He felt a weight in his hand just as the first hunter, lunging full speed with a greatsword, came in for the kill. Liam ducked around the greatsword and lunged with speed at the upper limits of even a hunter, and plunged the broken bottle into the gut of his target as the other hunters all fired on him.
The hunter's eyes went wide as a gut wrenching sound of rending flesh filled the still midnight air, his mouth uttering pained gurgling as Liam felt his fist pulled further in, his knuckles drawing the blood like fiendish tethers. He braced his foot on the hunter's chest and kicked him off as he forcibly tore the blood from his body, the shards of glass from the bottle earlier falling to the ground
The sight was so macabre, the other hunters, hardened combat specialists, froze in place a moment to take it in. Liam clutched a bouquet of arteries at the base, the tendrils branching outwards in a large plume around him. They glowed reds and golds, twitching and dancing with otherworldly power like serpents withdrawn from their holes.
After a second, the veins pulled themselves together, making slurping noises as they wove into an angular shape and hardened into icy coldblood that resembled amber. Liam flicked the construct, the partially liquified blade extending into a sabre with numerous writhing veins at the base.
Liam's face broke into a fiendish smile, even as his body shook with effort of holding him while he was riddled with bullets. He lunged forward, taking even more damage, but he felt the otherworldly will breathing down his neck, urging him on. He closed in on a hunter, who retaliated with a swipe from his Threaded Cane, Liam scattering the pieces of chain as he sliced right through.
His prey attempted to fall back, but Liam was too fast as his Blood Sabre bisected him, the cast-off never leaving the blade as it was absorbed, drawn into the gauntlets, and funneled into Liam's body. It was like consuming a Blood Vial, the majority of his wounds healing in moments as he kept going. He dodged under a hunter bringing his Kirkhammer to bear, moving fast and low as The Sabre reshaped into a short, broad blade emulating the Saw Cleaver to accommodate the close proximity.
Liam eviscerated him, falling back, and flicking his wrist to extend the blade, laying a broader cut.
The agent of the Church fell in two halves, split hip to shoulder diagonally, the sword again soaking up all the blood, Liam lavishing in the Echoes. This was even greater than the feel of a Blood Vial, he didn't even need an injection. All he had to do was keep slashing away, but the smoldering blood could lance through human flesh and bone with ease, reducing the process to one slash.
He growled, leaping through the air and stabbing a hunter in the throat, drawing the blade down to split him down the center. Liam was frantically dodging hunter to hunter, each one now focused on staying away from him as he could extend his weapon to any length he desired, passing through their defenses and cutting away any limbs he could reach, striking at everything in sight freely and without fear.
He charged one who was in the process of replacing the chamber in his repeater pistol, this one steaming in the air seemingly from sheer heat. He flipped the gun back upright and cocked it, leveling it at the laughing hunter with both hands firmly grasping the grip-
Just as Liam threw his full weight into a forward cut, the hunter fired straight into the hunter's chest, the shot rattling the windows as the two phosphorescent gold bullets nearly removed the hunter's torso entirely, Liam's forward momentum shattered as he reeled back from the smoldering hand cannon.
The hunter leapt forward to place himself in striking distance, plunging his bare hand into Liam's sternum and ripping the base of his throat out. Liam fell flat on his back, his cursing reduced to pitiful gurgles as he flailed around, even the anesthetic properties of the twins unable to reduce trauma that immense.
He tried to get up, but a silver sword was driven through his chest by another hunter.
"Splendid work Roy, this bastard gave us a lot of trouble." He congratulated, twisting the blade.
The gunman shrugged as he sheathed his repeater, Liam pawing at the blade pinning him to the ground.
"It wasn't anything special. Even a child could land a shot against something charging so blindly."
"The Good Blood worships your deeds." Rodger boomed as he lumbered across the dock, Liam grit his teeth, "Though we have lost some of our own, there is now one less enemy of the Church, and the relic has evolved to…"
He paused, Liam starting to glow faintly as his own blood turned hot, the gauntlets glowing with power. They all just dismissed him, assumed he was down for good. He imagined the higher place, held it there as the glow became greater around him. He didn't care how he did it, but he could not stand being beaten down. That aligned with the sisters' own malice, until their will and his own overlapped to the point of one being indiscernible from the other.
Liam's eyes turned red as all the vessels in them burst from exertion, the iris starting to glow golden.
It hurt. More than anything else it hurt as his skin turned a sickening yellow, the blood rocks on his arms glowing intensely. The confused hunters clutched their heads as an ultra-low siren radiated from Liam. A faintly scarlet light that resembled the beacon of a lighthouse began to materialize, rising like the lights of a carriage on a black night, the siren low, but growing deeper and deeper, until it could be felt like a light breeze.
While the noise had no effect on Liam, every hunter clutched their head and screamed when the phantom light and siren laced with unutterable knowledge became too much for them to bear, their skin blistering and turning dark red as their Old Blood boiled in their veins. They looked rabid, saliva shooting from their mouths, their harrowing screams more gut wrenching than any beast, their eyes shot wide with revelation as their brain matter was torn asunder.
Giant black pikes appeared from thin air and ran them through, each strike making a sickening crack, though they disappeared immediately after. Each of these strokes was like the crack of a whip, the frenzied hunters starting to rip at their eyes and faces, a few plunging their fingers into their skull completely.
Within seconds, they were reduced to smoldering, bloody corpses on the ground, their blood exploding from their bodies and spiralling around Liam as though compelled by a strange gravity. Within moments, Liam was back on his feet, the catastrophic wounds stitching together out of the materials he gathered, feeling the Echoes of the Church Hunters granting him strength.
He took several breaths, before he looked to his side and felt his momentary joy wither.
Rodger was holding his head, taking several deep, slow breaths, his pale face red with strain.
"Grant me eyes. Grant me eyes." He muttered, shaking the frenzied blood off like a bad fever. He stood up straight, towering over Liam, his mouth curled into a livid snarl.
"How aren't you dead?" Liam shouted, Rodger staring balefully at him,
"Blood addled heretic." He spat, "Do you truly believe the power of the Great Ones can shake the will of an ordained executor of the Healing Church? Their eyes failed to open, and their infirm blood escaped their grasp." He said, gesturing at the fallen hunters, the hairs on Liam's neck prickling. "I, however, remain to take back what rightfully belongs to us."
He reached behind his back, parting his cloak to reveal a body like a petrified tree, his skin stretched tightly over his giant muscles and bones, tumorous growths peeking through bloodied bandages. There was the familiar crank of machinery, and he produced a giant iron axe. It was no trick weapon of the Church or the Hunter's Workshop. It was just a giant, dead heap of iron coated with bloodstains.
Liam called his Blood Sabre to his hand, but he could feel the sisters needed to rest a moment after unleashing the frenzying aura. Rodger was already stomping towards him, his footfalls making the characteristic creak that haunted the Church Giants, only these seemed more swift and confident as he loomed over the smaller hunter.
Rodger swung his axe overhanded, Liam skirting out of the way and going for a slash of his own, but the giant threw a foot forward, the hunter narrowly avoiding the stomp as it sent chips of stone flying, the giant following that up with an underhanded swing casting sparks and pebbles.
The force of his lightning fast swings was so immense, just the energy of it passing by rustled Liam's hair, the hunter remaining on the defensive as he continued backwards, the ground exploding with each missed swing.
Rodger swung yet again, Liam dodging into the swing to get at his hip, but Rodger pivoted on his ankle, swinging his elbow back and striking Liam before he could fully settle on the ground. The Hunter was knocked forward onto his belly, his back aching from the hit as a shadow fell over him. Liam rolled to the side just as Rodger's axe smashed the ground where he sat, getting to his feet and evading another axe swing.
He leapt back a few steps, actually smirking. Rodger was big, and fairly fast, but Liam was used to fighting beasts.
"For all your looks, you seem to only be good for tilling the dirt."
Rodger curled his lips- then laughed,
"You are spirited, if ever the insolent one. If you have no more to show me, I see no point in flattering you any further."
He let up a sharp growl as he stomped the ground, the puddles around him repelled by the force of the impact. The sound of a bell echoed as waves of distortion surrounded his axe, Rodger's eyes glowing a cosmic dark violet and black, his body dancing with arcane power.
Liam could feel a rush of insight at seeing the beastly giant, letting his guard down an instant too long as violet bubbles of explosive energy sent the giant forward at speeds that should've been impossible for something his size, his fist coming forward in a literal flash.
Though the skin never made contact, a concentrated explosion at the end of Rodger's fist extended his range even further, Liam hearing a thunderclap as his ribs were crushed, blood gushing from his mouth as he was sent sliding backwards.
Squinting through his ringing concussion, Liam saw Rodger pull a parasite out of his cloak and thrust it forward. A portal materialized around the insect, a cluster of pale tentacles shooting forward like javelins, Liam skirting around them and landing shakily on his feet. He lost sight of the giant, and looked up just in time to jump back from the falling beast, poising himself to jump in and slash him as he landed.
Liam lunged with his Blood Sabre, but he didn't mind the shockwave radiating from Rodger's feet and was knocked back again.
Rodger crouched and sprang forward, landing a flying knee in Liam's gut, the impact supplemented by another wave. The chosen hunter's body quaked from the impact, Liam's stomach dropping as he flew through the air and slammed into a building, black spots flooding his vision as his brain bounced around in his skull like ship tossed on a stormy sea.
He panted heavily as he fell off the wall and tried as hard as he could to stand, but his legs refused to work, even as Rodger charged him, axe borne over his shoulder. Right as Rodger enclosed him, putting his weight into an overhand swing, Liam was able to jump aside, the axe screeching as it went right through the wall it struck, the arcane light peeling the material away like paper.
Liam dashed a short ways to get in position, but was struck by the parasite, the lashes breaking his shoulders and knocking him to the ground again. He pushed himself up, Rodger grabbing him by the back of the head and hoisting him,
"What's wrong!? You were so confident you could challenge the Healing Church a moment ago." Liam let up a silent scream as Rodger kneed him in the back, his spine crunching as Liam lost the feeling in both legs. The brute fully extended his arm, rolling his shoulder to ram the hunter into the ground with the full force of his body, Liam's body cracking like a sack of woodchips, "The Great Ones are wasted on you, you miserable, arrogant fool."
He punctuated, pulling Liam up by his leg and tossing him into the air, punting Liam as he fell back down. The hunter flew several meters before tumbling to a stop, coughing blood as he convulsed on the ground in a crumpled heap.
It was impossible. Not even the twins were strong enough to hold him off. Not in a fair fight…
Rodger stomped towards him, his axe swaying at his side while Liam tried to think of something he could do to fight back as he twitched on the ground. He got another feeling, to simply let go and allow the sisters to stand in for him as his near-death aroused them, Liam slipping a moment as the giant raised his axe for a killing blow.
The blood around Liam's body filled with the vein-like tendrils of energy from his gauntlets, moving like an extra appendage and striking Rodger's right ankle. The possessed blood burrowed up the length of his leg in an instant, staggering him out of his attack while the threads of coldblood perforated his organs and heart, each tendril absorbing the surrounding tissue until a bloom of solid blood erupted from Rodger's body.
The veins in his neck turned into lances trained on his brain, his glowing eyes going out as a pair of bloody prongs came through the back of his head, his body falling backwards and hitting the cobblestone with a solid thump.
Liam, from his spot on the ground, swiftly absorbed all the Blood Echoes, the sheer weight of the frenzied coldblood making his skin prickle and head go numb. He couldn't tell if he'd grown stronger (though it felt like it) but his healing abilities were definitely greater as he got up, his bones knitting together and scar-tissue covering his gashes. He regarded the dead giant, wondering what mutations could have lead to such a thing.
He was too mighty to be a man. Too lucid to be a beast. Too low to be a Great One...
But, none of that mattered in the end because he was dead, and his Echoes were Liam's. The hunter placed a trembling hand on his chest, the skin numb to his own touch. He was healing without the use of vials, but he realized that with all the damage he was sustaining it was not entirely enough. A moment after, he realized he was mistaking the flesh of the Great Ones for his own and was still wearing the gauntlets.
He needed to rest more to allow all the Echoes to settle and gather his thoughts, but he came face to face with the townspeople, the sardonic innkeeper huffing on a cigar, staring at Liam, then the giant, then back.
"I guess your plan fell through." Liam growled, the innkeeper's lips curling into a smirk around his cigar,
"Yeah, I guess it did." he said, "Now look what ya' did. When the Church gets 'ere, they're going to find this mess. They're going to be pretty angry, I reckon."
"Well, if you'd decided to keep your end of the deal, none of this would have happened."
"What kind of fool do ya' take me for?" He said, shaking his head, "you were never going to give 'em up. I could see it in yer eyes. The lust for blood and power is just too much for ya' hunters to handle. Now this whole town's gonna pay for it."
"That's your problem, not mine." Liam spat, taking a jar to the back of the head. It shattered into a greasy spray of viscous yellow, the hunter's eyes squinting shut as the shattered porcelain fell to the ground, Liam shaking some of it off.
"You think throwing your chamberpots at me is going to gain the Church's good graces?" He yelled as his eyes began to sting, each breath burning his lungs as the greasy liquid trailed down, "You should *caugh cack* be on your knees and *caugh* *caugh*" It became hard to breathe, the hot fumes making Liam woozy as he coughed repeatedly.
The innkeeper removed his cigar, cradling it between his fingers and exhaling an infernal breath of smoke, "It ain't piss, mate." He said, "Only one way to deal with a wayward beast."
Liam's burning eyes sprung open as the villager flicked his cigar at Liam's face, his vision completely drowning in flames as the kerosene fumes ignited.
He screamed and pawed at his face, his lungs scorching from within as the fumes he'd inhaled found their way to the burning lantern oil. He fell to his knees, the hungry flames consuming his air as he tried to breathe and continued to paw at his face.
A flying whiskey bottle broke over his forehead, the alcohol flashing into a bloom of flame, the villagers jeering and calling as they threw more molotov's at him. Liam's lungs screamed as he begun to suffocate, unable to take a breath without inhaling a mouthful of cinders and smoke, until all he could do was cough from his ruined lungs.
He rolled around on the ground, but the flame would not go out, his body struck by an unutterable pain as he went into convulsions trying to smother it in any way possible. The twins tried to heal him, but the new flesh was burned away and cauterized faster than it could be replaced, the escalating heat starting to sear to the bones as his muscles refused to respond to him.
He eventually sprung to his feet and sprinted, his eyes completely obscured by the yellow fires scorching them away, Liam hearing a howl of pain echoing around him, but he was too in shock to tell if it was another or just him. Likewise, the harrowing screams of the Great Ones completely drowned any thoughts he had, their flesh burning along with his.
He didn't know where he was going, he just ran, the rushing air only feeding the pyre as he turned into a running tinder.
His feet stepped into empty air, Liam toppling forward and falling into the icy waters, the shock of the icy ocean on his burnt skin finally driving him past the point of enduring, his eyes going dark as he went still and sunk straight down.
This time, he did not dream, and just laid in the sands beneath the waves for a period of time before his eyes crept open. He no longer felt his flesh, resting in a dreamlike trance as he stared at the moonlight flickering on the surface. He couldn't breathe the water, but didn't require air to sustain himself, subsisting on the power of the Old Blood alone.
He felt like a ghoul being driven along by its vampiric master as the twins urged him awake to find more blood, his hands pulling him from the shifting sands and eventually drawing him upwards. His emaciated hands grasped the edge of the pier, pulling him from the sea, until he was sliding across the dock on his stomach.
The air burned him a moment, his hunter's garb nearly completely torn and charred beyond using, allowing the chilly autumn air to caress his scarred flesh as he rose to his feet. His skin was a hodgepodge of bleached scar tissue and flesh borrowed from his prey, his head completely clean of hair with two gold, bloodshot eyes that faintly echoed with insight.
His breath was shallow and uneven as he slumped forward with fatigue, his raspy breath becoming a snort of dry amusement when he looked at his arms. The brass was not damaged too greatly, and the blood rock was perfectly intact, but heatscale and burnt matter were clinging all over the construct, the Great One flesh shriveled up slightly from the fire. His arms were filled with glowing veins where the rock leached into his blood, the unnatural moisture beneath the leather gone as it became a sort of biological epoxy, fusing the leather to his own skin.
Unless he literally stripped the flesh from his bones (and even then he would heal as he took the cuts), he was the permanent host of the girls. No matter. He could take whatever shape he desired when he became a Great One himself.
His eyes raised up to a few horrified villagers, their faces more filled with shock than hostility as he'd risen from the depths. Liam's eyes squinted, his breath growling between his chipped, jagged teeth as the Blood Sabre materialized at his side...