At night's final hour,
Relinquish thy honor,
Find in death thy rest.
Dream of power,
You who cower,
At end of thy quest.
The bell tolls, it's defiant ring heralding the dawn soon to come. The city is revealed once more, the impurities of filth and blood washed away, the rooftops graced once more by the pale Moon in her final moments of supremacy, before her place in the sky is usurped once more by the Sun. The Hunt nears its end, and the bloodlust grows as star light dims, and the fear begins to fade.
A lone Hunter stalks a gleaming tower, little flames lighting the streets below reflect from her polished windows, like glimmers of hope in a hopeless night. Here in this tower above the city; the Healing Church holds no share, this place was meant for others in power, though none remember who they are. It's marble walls and floors, and her limestone foundations stand strong despite years of obscurity and shifting powers. Her marble of ivory gold now marred by the deep sanguine of blood.
The Berserk Dancer withdrew his Danse Macabre from the slain Beast at his feet. One of a dozen he had felled in this place of opulence. Yet more remained, farther up the winding stairs and elevators, screams and sounds of struggle proved as much. Kath ascended the worn flights of stairs, chasing down down the struggle. 10 flights. 15 flights.
The Hunter lost count, the Beasts below must have been slow to arrive. Soon the Hunter began finding signs of violence: claw marks cut into the marble, blood spatter, a Knight in metal armour slaughtered, a weapon discarded in frightened haste. The attack must have have been swift since the alarms had not been raised. These Knights were trained to fight Humans, not Beasts. Their weapons are straight edged swords and pikes and halberds meant to cut down Brigades. Not Trick Weapons meant to slay Beasts.
Finally Kath found the source of the sounds, a large pack of Beasts moving across the massive room, 100 feet long and 50 across and a ceiling standing at least as high, massive windows lining the walls revealed the city below..
Kath fetched a small black sphere from his belt. Striking the Spark Paper wick against the metal body, he closed the distance to the pack while hurling the Fire Bomb into the mass. The flames tore through the Beasts, sending them into a panic as the Hunter's blade met flesh, hollow slashes severing tendon, shallow stabs twisted into muscle, leaving limbs mangled and his victims crawling. Brain matter and bone were reduced to pink mist with the first gunshot of Kath's pistol. Soon the floor was slick with blood, fast pooling around the bodies both limp and dragging.
Even with his speed, and his eloquent cuts and lighting fast thrusts, the Hunter felt the sting of claws. With his protective metal plates, he only narrowly avoided losing his arm several times. Going so far as to sacrifice his left forearm to deflect blows that would have caused grave injury to his sword arm or torso, but his grip held true to the pistol in his palm despite his bones being nicked by beastal talons.
Soon few remained; one charged his right, and was caught against the Hunter's shoulder, whose blade slide across the fur covered throat of his foe, spilling blood over the Hunter's coat. The struggling Beast shielded Kath from the swipe of another. With a shrug: the Berserk Dancer doffed the bleeding corpse-to-be and thrust into the ribs of the would be attacker. A third Beast reared up behind the Hunter, as the second fell back pulling the Hunter's blood caked sword with it, and risk long since embraced was left the only choice: with the Beast's mouth open wide to rip and tear, Kath plunged his pistol into the gaping maw and at once felt the creature gag at the intrusion before the muffled Quick Silver bullet tore through its organs and embedded in the tile floor. The limp creature's fangs ripped into his arm, wrist, and hand, leaving his pistol shaking in his grip. The last Beast -still impaled with Danse Macabre- stood again, the stab had been stopped by dense ribs, and failed to pierce the heart. The prey charged and the Hunter dived into the creature, the two bodies forcing the serrated sword through bones and meat and both fell in a heap.
And then all was still. Kath shook noticeably with each exhausted breath as he came back to a knee. He had chosen to take this risk, to stare death in the eye night after night, yet some part of him still feared the wounds he had suffered. Some part would look back to the shallow grave again, not at the dawn that was promised by the love he had buried. That oldest pain returned, and the demand to keep fighting did as well. The blood soaked Hunter held a fist size glass vial in his hand, stabbing the vial into his thigh: he at once felt the warmth of this most pure blood, given by a saint, infuse and mix with his own. His wounds began to mend, it was slow, and it would take several minutes for some, but the pain became a dull throb, and the shaking ceased.
It was only now that Kath became aware of the dozen Humans in the room with him. Some dressed in garish gowns of the decrepit officials who once held the true power of Yharnam, reduced to impotence by the Healing Church, three others in platemail shielding the officials from the blood shed. Kath felt his stomach churn, these weaklings would pretend power while they cower behind their Honorable Guards, unwilling to accept that they are no match for the horrors that lurk in the night. Ripping Danse Macabre from the corpse and wiping the blood onto the fur coat of the body. Kath approached the Officials, at first the Knights attempted to block him, but allowed him past as he stared them down. The first Official was pale, wounded, near shock, Kath stabbed him with a vial of Blood, and color began returning to the fat cheeks of wrinkled flesh. Then came the sound, claws on stone, more Beasts approached from below the stairwell, draw by the smell of blood and fear.
A scream escaped an old raspy throat, an Official was shuffling away from the stairwell, had he heard the Beasts? Kath stepped in front of the Old Man, who fell in shock. Kath dropped to a knee, taking the aged face in his hand, and forced the man to look at him. There was shouting, but Kath betrayed his ears to his sight. The Old Man, his eyes bled, his pupils had collapsed. He was near turning. Kath stood again and brought the sword tip to the Beast's neck, Kath's ears were trying to warn him of something, but all that mattered was to kill the creature kneeling before him.
Steel plate met Kath as two of the guards lifted him from the ground, pushing him away from the Officials as they gathered around the Beast soon to turn. Kath thrashed, throwing the guards off their feet and stepped forward to slaughter the creature, some of the humans had gathered around it, sheltering it from from the merciful death a Hunter promises, blocking Kath from his prey. They would not stop him from killing this Beast, no one would. Not them, not the guards, not her, no one. He threw the first human to the side, stomped into the next and stepped over him as he thrust his sword into the Beast's scruff.
Blood spattered and Kath was thrown clear by the Beast's new arm. He could only stare in disbelief at the sight: flesh ripped and tore, bone grew to massive size and density, all in an instant the body of the feeble old man was torn asunder by it's new form -heralded by an unearthly scream- a Monster built like something between a Wolf and a Fox standing hunched as tall as four men, as tall as ten if it stood straight. Why had they stopped him? Why did they get in his way? It was a Beast, a monster to be cut down and slaughtered, and now it was likely beyond Kath's ability to kill alone.
For a moment he thought to leave the fools to their fate.
Kath charged, intent on killing the Beast before it gained its bearing, only for the Hunter to be tackled to the ground by another Beast, lifting the assailant with his feet, Kath held the creature for a moment before dropping it on his blade.
There were shouts and screams when Kath regained his footing and wrenched his weapon free. The largest Beast had killed the last of the Knights, and now slowly advanced on the cowards, unable to even flee. It was sickening to watch them unable to move or fight. How mighty they once thought themselves, and now they were nothing. They knew better than to stand between a Hunter and his prey, yet they tried to stop him. Anger and rage began to rise in the Hunter's heart. They would perish for their incompetence, and Kath no longer cared. Blood pooled in his eyelid staining the world in his left eye blurry red and pain shot through arm, a spasm forced him to drop his beloved pistol, and coarse roar escaped his lips as he ran without reason in the group of Beasts. Swinging his long sword in wide arcs with both hands, not unlike a club, he cut them down. Recklessness gave way to fury when a Beast landed a glancing cut on the Hunter's arm.
The blood lust took hold, Kath felt blood spatter across his duster, mask and hood, and knocking off his cap. With a single rage fueled punch broke the creatures jaw. A one handed swing separated it's head, and a mighty back hand swatted away another. He cut his way through the smaller Beasts, with hack and cleave, necks snapped and torsos pierced with claw as the Hunter cut his way through the pack toward the titanic Beast. Kath danced about the Monster, weaving between its legs and attacks, leaving his own marks on its flesh, until an opening was made: the Berserk Dancer lept for the Beast's head and swung his blade for the base of the skull, but was blocked by the Beast's wrist. With preternatural strength and hate, or perhaps pain, the Bloodied Hunter forced his blade through bone with a ferocious roar, snapping the blade in two and removing the Monster's hand, before landing on his feet.
That wonderful scream of pain shook through the Hunter, leaving him unable to move before being thrown back by the Monster's remaining claw. Kath impacted the far wall, and fell to his knees. His mind become a void, all that mattered was to kill the Beast that turned away from him. Wrath become lust for blood as the Hunter let out a deep growl.
A hollow chime from a small bell caught his ear. Below him, having fallen from his torn and blood soaked breast pocket, was a small silver knife. An unknown voice was forced loose, his own voice fought to return. He fought to remind himself what that knife was for, acting against the foreign sound from inside his own soul: Kath plunged the pristine blade into his chest.
And his mind was made clear. Blood had not pooled under his eye; his eye bled, his vision was blurred from a collapsed pupil. And his left arm now ended in a large beastial claw.
The Berserk Dancer had fallen to Beasthood. Nothing was left now, this was his final night, he had become the thing he sought to cut his penance out of. In this crimson stained room, only two Beasts remained; one a giant soon to kill the last of the weak, the other a fallen Hunter who took his sword back into his hand, before driving the blade through his corrupted shoulder. These two Beasts: they would be Kath's final prey. With a twist of the pommel, the broken Danse Macabre snapped open, cutting away the perverted limb. Kath stood and charged with reckless abandon, intent of killing both Beasts at once.
Kath had cast aside his trepidation and fear.
His opening was narrow, but he took it: leaping blade first against the Monster's throat, Kath pierced it's hide and arteries. The creature fell back into the window, and both Beasts fell to the city below.
For there is no reason to fear the inevitable.
oo00oo00oo
Things are coming to a head, the night is nearly over, the final hour of night is here. When did Kath fall? Why did he fall? Maybe you know. Post a comment, and share your thoughts.