Loud footsteps echoed out as Jaune carefully made his way down the staircase. Hand lantern in hand and casting a soft yellow glow, thankfully it wasn't the only light source.
Carved into the walls of the staircase, grieving women dressed in nun habitat with cloth covering their eyes held candlesticks in their hands. The statues were crying blood, but with a blink it was gone, almost as if he had just imagined. Leaving only sorrowful faces that looked at the burning candles with despair.
Jaune liked his trusty hand lantern above creepy ladies crying blood and holding burning candles in forgotten tombs.
Eventually the staircase came to an end, leading to a path that led to an open room with even more statues of grieving and pleading women.
"What happened here?" He muttered to himself, ignoring the taste of stale air on his tongue. A clear improvement from the fire and ash that still refused to leave his tastebuds alone. He had tried to wash the taste away, but it lingered, never leaving. While Ren's semblance had 'cleansed' him of what affected him, scars lingered. If he would ever heal, or if he just had to get used to the taste of fire and ash, he didn't know. Neither did he dare hope.
Hard eyes trailing over the grieving and pleading statues. Compared to the small ones that lined the wall, these ones were far larger, fully human sized. It looked almost like the women had been trapped in stone, their tears and pleading faces trapped forever in their stone prisons.
Quickly searching the fresh corpse, he fished out a small tempering blood gemstone. A frown on his face as he inspected the dead man. Not at all liking how fresh the corpse was. The blood was still crimson, and while he smelled bad, he smelled of sweat and grime instead of rot. There were no signs of any sort of decomposing.
While Jaune wouldn't call himself a detective or anything like that, he knew corpses. Having seen everything from freshly murdered people to old and decaying corpses with their chest caved away. Either this person had been killed recently, or there was something else going on.
Tightening his grip around Crocea Mors he looked around, ready for something, anything to come leaping out from the shadows. Nothing came, but Jaune knew Yharnam would have something in store for him. On the line from bad to worse to apocalyptic, Yharnam just hadn't choses what flavour of bad she wanted to send him tonight.
Making his way down the staircase, Jaune frowned. Chiselled white stone and splendour turning into dreary red bricks pocking trough crumbling mortar. Statues holding burning candles were replaced with rusty candleholders with old candles that had been snuffed out. The further down the staircase he made it, the more the mortar broke apart. Until he eventually sat foot on the floor and stepped under the archway.
Setting foot in an almost pitch-black room, a low growl threated him. And Jaune knew exactly what Yharnam had sent him. A pair of sickly yellow eyes glowed brightly in the dark as a Scourge Beast prowled in the shadow. Sending a look filled with hate his way. The beast had lost any sort of human semblance, having fully transformed into a deranged wolf monster. The only thing that pointed at what it had been, was its elongated arms and legs with a human like torso. The rest was only sickly black fur with some bald spots, together with beastly teeth and claws.
Holding up his hand lantern the Scourge Beast retreated backwards into the darkness with a loud growl. Fastening his lantern to his belt he pulled up his sheath, not at all comfortable with blowing his eardrums by firing Morem Ignis in an enclosed space like this.
"I really should clean up my loadout." He absentmindedly muttered, his once orderly vest was filled to the brim with various knick-knacks that he frankly had no reason to carry around with him. Doing so would also allow him to plan out what other weapons to carry with him. He didn't really use his cane, it was good, and he wouldn't switch it out as a whip was always useful. But the double barrel shotgun he was gifted was something he wanted to use; it would give him more ranged options with high stopping power. The axe and the saw-spear or saw-cleaver were also things he wanted to bring with him. If only to be ready for everything.
Never hunt unprepared. A moto he had taken to heart after dying one to many times due to having run out of Blood Vials, having fumbled a flask, or simply having opened the wrong vest pocket. Spilling and wasting a packet of antidotes when he was bleeding out. Better be overprepared for unlikely scenarios than die due to being underprepared.
Making a mental note to take inventory of all he had, he sidestepped a lunge from the scourge beast. Smashing his sheath into the beast's side to open it up for a deep trust. Crocea Mors bit true and deep. Quickly pulling his blade out he backstepped, doing his best to be aware of everything that was in the room. Having learned what happened when something slipped by.
He died. A lot.
Thankfully it was only him and the beast in the dark room. Changing his sheath into its shield form he bashed it into the scourge beasts nose, before diving at it like a bat out of hell. A deep cleave biting into it's back before he planted his sword deeply in it's neck. Never giving the beast a second of respite, controlling the fight with quick and strong blows.
With a gurgled whimper the beast collapsed. Wrathful eyes turning glassy. Crocea Mors came down one last time, lobbing the head straight off. A ghostly white ball hovering over the beasts chest. Confused, he bent down beside the dead beast, turning it to its back, the ghostly ball of fire following, burning just over the beasts heart.
This wasn't the first time a ghost fireball had appeared on a corpse. However it was the first time it had appeared on a beast, and it was the first time the fireball was almost inside its body. Usually when they appeared on corpses, they were above pockets or other easily accessible areas.
"No." Jaune whispered horrified and disgusted when he connected the dots. Remembering what had happened to the Cleric Beast he had slain, where only a black hearth had remained. "No. Absolutely not." He spat, standing up and marching away from the corpse as disgust welled up inside him. No matter how horrible the hunt was, there was still some lines he didn't want to cross.
But Jaune was a weak man. He needed every advantage he could get his hands on. And so far, his 'ghost fire vision' had never been wrong. Every ball of fire had given him something he needed, or just helped him to stock up on his supplies. That didn't mean he liked searching corpses, but if he stood to gain something from it, he would if only so he could get a little nest egg should something happen, and he ended up losing his equipment and stash. It might sound paranoid, but there had been a time where he was starved for blood vials. An experience he never wanted to experience again.
Blood vials were lifelines. An unwinnable scenario would turn into a winnable one. It wasn't a miracle juice that could fix decapitations and having arms or legs amputated or ripped off. But it did enough, giving a severely injured hunter a fighting chance against almost insurmountable odds.
Kneeling before the beastly corpse, a shiver of disgust raced through Jaune. Not at the corpse, for Jaune had nothing but pity for the beast. Knowing it had once been a person. No, Jaune felt disgust at himself, for what he was about to do.
"I'm sorry." He whispered, raising his hand and ready to spear into the beasts chest. Lip trembling as he held the position, not finding it in himself to mutilate the beast more. Instead falling back down and planting his butt on the cold stone flooring. Condense coming out with every breath as he looked down at the corpse. Wondering what had become of him. "When did mutilating corpses become a daily occurrence?"
Looking at the corpse, he sighed. Knowing that he wouldn't be able to continue without whatever it was the ghost fireball signified. On the other hand, he knew himself to be unable to rip a corpse's heart out for his own gain.
Taking a deep breath, Jaune knelt over the beast again, this time respectfully laying his hand over its chest. Aura coming to life over him as he chanted. Having decided to mimic the aura activation ritual, only turning it into a prayer for laying the dead beast to rest instead. It wouldn't do much, but at least it would lessen the disgust he felt at himself.
"By your sacrifice, I do what I must, as I take from you, I give in return. Granting you the peace you so rightly deserve." The mist thickened in the dark room, the stone floor turning into soft dirt as hauntingly beautiful white lily's sprouted around them. A gentle melody echoing in the silent room as the beast's corpse turned into motes of silvery light and were carried away by an invisible wind.
A single blood stone shard clinkering against the stone floor as the flowers and mist disappeared. Leaving Jaune alone with only his hand lantern for company. Pocketing the shard with a heavy heart, he stood up and begun exploring the room. Harvesting beasts for materials still felt wrong, but at least he found solace in making the beast pass on peacefully to whatever afterlife awaited it.
Shining some light it the dark room. Yellow light danced over old boxes and large ceramic vases that stood stacked against the walls. The walls were made from red bricks that were peeking trough mortar, while some large stone pillars stood out. Creating a stable foundation for the large church aboveground.
"I must be close to Old Yharnam." He mussed, using his lantern to light the old candlesticks too finally get some more light. Opening his notebook he flipped to the page where he had Gilbert's map neatly folded. Humming slightly as he trailed his path. Nodding when he found his conjecture to be sound. "But what happened? This… isn't normal. This doesn't look like a city naturally expanding. If anything it seems like Yharnam have done it's best to forget it's Old Town… What happened?"
Sliding his notebook back into its place, Jaune sighed. Knowing fully well that he wouldn't get any answers from standing alone thinking. Giving the dimly lit room one last glance over he made his way to the staircase. The cemented in windows giving credence to his idea that something had happened that warranted it being boxed in and forgotten about. It was almost as if the church aboveground had been slapped down over another building.
The wooden stairs creaked beneath him as he stepped down. Frown never leaving as he followed the stairs. Coming to a stop where the stairs had collapsed but a ladder had been added as quick fix. Stepping down he went up the opposite stairs, frown deepening even more as he searched the corpse before him. Graciously taking the envelope of antidotes. Two tablets remained, nevertheless two were better than none.
Moving the corpses head to the side he frowned, it looked pale but not bloated. Instead it looked dehydrated, with nails and hair looking like they had grown. But even if it had begun to mummify, it still looked like it was something that had recently begun. But that couldn't be possible, especially with how thick the layer of dust was. It looked like it hadn't been cleaned for a hundred years or more.
"Does the blood slow decomposition?" Jaune mumbled to himself. Deciding to forgo the mysteries of the not decaying bodies for now. Standing back up he made his way down the rest of the staircase. Coming to another open room that sat right under the other. It looked alike as well. Only difference being weeds sprouting wildly. Quickly lighting the dream lantern, Jaune woke up in the dream with a plan to clean his inventory.
"Kind hunter, welcome back. How was your hunt?" The Doll asked softly, giving him a soft smile as she fell in step behind him.
"Better than expected." Jaune sighed as he stepped into the workshop. Laying his top hat and gloves on his reading table before handing his coat on the chair. Popping the buttons of his vest of he lied it onto the workshop table. Cringing when he saw how full and bloated some leather pockets looked, while others where empty. Not to mention the rather sporadic pocketing of Molotov cocktails and Blood Vials.
"Why do I have eleven packets of antidotes?" Jaune mumbled to himself, looking down at the aforementioned packets he had fished out from multiple pockets. A standard packet of antidotes had ten tablets, so he had been carrying a good hundred and eleven. When he only needed ten, maybe twenty if he was being overly cautious. That was nothing however, to the ten Molotov's he had squirreled away and never really used. They were good to have, but never saw much use and took up much space that he could use for other things.
In the end he removed everything from his vest pockets, even going as far as to remove his coats inner pockets as well.
Twenty throwing knives, two bloodstone shards, two bold hunters marks, a pungent blood cocktail, three coldblood dew he had forgotten Isolde to spirit away, a hundred and eleven tablets of antidotes, three oil urns who had been one pocket below his three fire papers. And five blood vials to round everything up. He also had twenty quicksilver bullets on him that sat in his leather carriage bag, together with the five currently in the chamber.
"Lad. A question." Gherman asked. Startling Jaune, sending him sky-high with a yelp. Quickly drawing his revolver and spinning around as his heart slammed in his chest. Wildly beating heart calming down as he frowned at the mirthful smile on the old bastards face. The light giggling from The Doll not helping the slightest.
"Oh? Not going to reprimand me about constant vigilance or anything?" Jaune snarked, hearth hammering like a drum as his face burned. Holstering his revolver, he waited for what Gehrman had to say. Knowing that the old man wouldn't bother him for no reason.
"No. I will not. I would instead say that it's good that you have a place where you can let your guard down. After all, a sanctuary away from the hunt is one of the wishes the Dream is built on. But I digress, constant vigilance is something you should adhere to while out on the hunt. But if you are constantly vigilant, paranoia will eat you alive. Vigilance, like a lot in life, is something that should be practiced in moderation. Too little, and you will find yourself walking into ambush after ambush. Too much, and well, I will let you figure that one out on your own." Gehrman lectured as he rolled up the workbench, The Doll stepping to the side and giving the grumpy old man room. "But, now, lad, a little question."
"Why were you carrying these with you?" Gehrman asked, picking up one of the throwing knives. The knife danced between his fingers as Gehrman's eyes bore into him. "Do you use them? Can you use them? What are they for? Where did you get them?"
"Ehhh… no?" Jaune flinched, running a hand trough his hair as he gave a bashful smile. Thinking about how to calm down the volcano that was Gehrman, before opening his mouth and digging his grave deeper. "Well… I picked them up from some corpses while exploring, thinking they would come in nifty sometime. Then I kinda forgot about them to be honest."
"You absolute imbecile." Gehrman whispered harshly, venom in his voice as he gave Jaune a look that told him he was less than the dirt on his boot. "There is only so much you can carry with you when out on the hunt. And you are telling me that you have used a lot of that space for something you don't even use, nor can use?"
"Well… when you put it like that." Jaune flinched, stomach falling as he saw Gehrman wind up for a rant.
"Efficient use of inventory is a crucial skill for every hunter. It doesn't matter if you are the second coming of Ludwig or if you are just some random bloke joining the hunt for the first time. It may not be as important as fighting skills and having a good head on your shoulders, but that doesn't mean it's redundant. You should always be aware of what you are carrying with you, where it is, what it does, if there exists interplay and synergies, or if they get in each other's way, how many you have, and how to either get more, or how to create it." Gehrman lectured, rolling up to the workbench and looking over everything that was neatly organised.
"You have a good little collection of things here lad, but let's put that to the side and focus on the crucial bits first. The essential that you always should have with you." Gehrman said calmly, as if his little rant hadn't happened. "Blood vials. Two or three max, while useful they also take up a lot of space that can be used for other things. Start with three for now and step down to two when you get better. Remember to always keep a vial on you for safety."
Nodding Jaune stuffed the three vials into spots where they were quickly accessible.
"Good, you can listen. Hopefully you can learn." Gehrman nodded, looking impassionedly as Jaune worked. Only frowning slightly at where Jaune put his vials, but not saying anything. "Now, antidotes. No more than two packet's, anything more is unnecessary. You are not likely to stumble upon different types of poisons, and the blood ministration have made you immune to most, if not all diseases. The dream will also make sure you don't catch anything. Each pack contains ten tablets, twenty tablets should carry you trough almost every hunt."
Jaune packed three packets of antidotes, wanting to be on the safe side. Gehrman just hummed lightly, his face a mask of stone. "Now bullets, how many are you carrying?"
"Twenty, or twenty-five if counting the chambered ones." Jaune answered quickly, getting a pleased nod from Gehrman. "Good. You don't want to take to many bullets with you, but you also don't want to run out of ammo while on the hunt. How many bullets you take with you is something more personal, depending on how often you use your firearm. That is not me saying go wild however, you should never over rely on your firearm unless you have a steady stream of bullets available. It's there for you to take out ranged threats, control the space, punish openings you otherwise can't reach and soften up bigger beasts. It's never meant to be your primary source of damage."
"Does that include shotguns and other firearms as well?" Jaune asked curiously, eyes trailing towards the wall where he had mounted the double barrel shotgun.
"How many beasts do you stumble upon each night?" Gehrman asked, stopping Jaune's wandering thoughts harshly and tearing them apart. During the average hunt he stumbled upon at least forty, maybe fifty enemies. They were spread out, but they were many. And it's seemed like they were never-ending. Coming back the next time he died as if he had never killed them. Cringing, Jaune had the decency to blush.
"That's what I thought. If we could end the hunt by drowning the beasts in bullets, we would have done so a long time ago." Gehrman said a little remorsefully. Eyes turning glassy before he shook his head and looked at Jaune again. "But now, equipment. Blood vials, bullets and antidotes are the most essential. They are what separates a successful hunt and a dead hunter. Everything else is secondary. The only thing I will tell you is this. Don't take with you things you never can see yourself using. For example, are you going to use the molotovs?"
"Yes. They are good for crowd control, or when I get overwhelmed by groups of beasts." Jaune replied as he packed them into his vest. Adding the oil urns as well. Before adding the fire paper. He didn't know if he would use it, but he would have to test it out at least. A burning sword just tickled his fancy.
"Take the pungent blood cocktail as well. It will release a pungent smell of blood when used, the smell will draw in beasts and the like towards it. While I wouldn't exactly call it essential. It is good to have at hand, if only as bait, or as a way for beasts to tear each other apart." Gehrman said from the side. Gehrman advised as he watched Jaune pack. Giving Jaune the familiar feeling of packing for a camping trip, instead of packing his equipment for a hunt that was life and death. A surreal feeling altogether, but Jaune decided to embrace it. It helped ease his heavy heart, if only slightly.
Deciding to listen to the old man's wisdom he sank the bottle into its pocket. Quickly suiting up and doing one last check over his cleaned loadout. He felt lighter, more balanced. It wasn't by much, but it was enough to notice.
"I'm thinking of expanding my arsenal a bit. Crocea Mors will remain a mainstay, but… I would like to be better prepared for more situations where I don't think only sword and shield would cut it. Got any ideas? Any advice?" At his words Gehrman gave him a harsh look. Weighting his words before turning to look over at the wall. A saw-cleaver and saw-spear was mounted side by side, the hunters axe in it's extended form laying under.
"Lad, let me tell you a little something. To get the little grey ones in your head working, for clearly you have left what little wit you have about you back in Yharnam." Jaune took Gehrman's snark staunchly, having the decency to blush. Gehrman continued, a seriousness in his voice that wiped the grin of Jaune's face. Replacing it with a stone-cold visage instead. "You are not the same terrified boy you once were. And I have already held your hand too much. Prove that you have grown. Prove that you are worthy of that badge you have sewn into your hat."
Taking his hat off, Jaune gave a serious look over the two badges he had sewn into it. The silver sword badge, a badge he had learned was connected to the Healing Church, and the saw badge, which could only be what Gehrman was referring to. His hat suddenly felt heavier, not having made the connection that the badges meant something. Having seen the first badge as a trophy and sewn it into his hat, then just having done the same thing with the saw badge. Not giving them much thought.
A reminiscing mood settled over Gehrman as he leaned back in his wheelchair. Not caring for what revelations unfolded in his proteges mind, only giving him an apathetic look.
"My workshop was the first. We valued stealth and secrecy, choosing to let our deeds go unnoticed in a hope of ending the beast plague before the commonfolk would find out about it. The Powder Kegs, The Oto Worksop and the Healing Church Worksop all came about later, when the need for hunters unfortunately had drastically increased. We all shared the same duty, even if our philosophies and methods greatly differed."
"Oto, and the Powder Kegs who followed them, followed a philosophy of fire and explosions, loud and proud. They were as mighty as they were suicidal. The Church Hunters were clerics who took up the sword with great reluctance. Mighty and strong of heart, they had a tendency to include the arcane into their weaponry and tools. All done in an attempt to mimic Ludwig in hope of somehow gaining part of his strength. The Cainhurst followed a philosophy of finding strength in blood. Stretching what was thought possible with blood rites and rituals to its absolute limit. Cementing their enmity with the healing Church in the process."
"My workshop. My hunters. We had a simple philosophy." Gehrman breathed out as a heavy silence fell over the workshop. Not even the crackling of the fire could be heard as Jaune waited with bathed breath. "Simplicity and familiarity. Take the Threaded Cane for example, no one would blink an eye if a gentleman got a new cane. Same with the saw-spear and cleaver, while they have unique appearances, they are tool's that wouldn't look out of place in the common household. The same held true for the axe, pistol and blunderbuss. I myself, am a farmer's son, something that made no one bat an eye to my scythe. Seeing it as a memento of my roots, even if my standing in life had bettered. My apprentice had been taught swordplay since young, and so the rapier was her weapon of choice."
"All of my workshop's tools and weaponry were designed on the principle of being able to blend back with the common folk come dawn. Back in my time, being a hunter and the knowledge of beasts was a lot more secret, only a selected few knew or stumbled upon the truth. For the commonfolk it was only regaled as ghost stories mothers told their children if they had been naughty. We thought that by taking the fight to the beasts, we could end the plague before it spread. Nipping it in the roots so to say. So one day we could lay down our weapons and seamlessly integrate back into Yharnam with the commonfolk none the wiser. Unfortunately, no matter how good me and my hunters were, eventually the beasts became to many."
"Now, Lad, if you were to lie down your blade at this very moment, because you find boxing beasts to death with a pair of knuckledusters to be more efficient. Then I'm all for it, no matter how stupid and suicidal it may sound. It doesn't matter what you use, as long as beasts die. Blood fortification allows you this kind of leeway with weapons. Had it not been for it, the saw-cleaver would be almost unusable. It's a good weapon, don't get me wrong, but the hinge can only take so much before it breaks. Blood fortification is required to make it usable against tougher beasts."
Holding the aforementioned weapon in his hand, he brough it down with all his might on the worktable. The hinge giving as the cleaver like blade planted itself in the wood, the handle turning to splinters in the process. Absentmindedly dusting of his hand on his pants as he snapped his fingers and another saw-cleaver appeared in his hand. It looked similar to its counterpart, only rustier, the teeth stained with old blood. Unceremoniously lifting the weapon up, Gehrman brought it down with all his might. A tremor going through the entire workshop as dust rained down from the rafters. Compared to its brother, this saw-cleaver looked like it hadn't felt a singe thing. The teeth not even bending when Gehrman pulled it out from the workbench.
Picking his jaw up from the floor, Jaune turned to look at Gehrman. Looking at the old man like he had grown another head. Not understanding how a one-legged old man could bring out so much power while still seated in his wheelchair.
"A little demonstration of how vital blood fortification is. If it can turn a saw hinged to a stick into a terrifying weapon. What can it do for proper weapons? Blades and swords become almost impossible to block. Axes splinter bone like kindling, maces minces flesh and grounds bone to dust. Firearms becomes magnitudes more lethal. Never forget to upgrade your equipment."
Ignoring his protégé, Gehrman continued speaking. "You have hunted beasts and prey; you should have a good understanding of your needs as a hunter are. If not, you are a blundering fool and deserve everything Yharnam is throwing at you and more. If you feel your sword is limiting, experiment. Maybe it is, maybe you are simply not using it to its full potential. A blade is a lot more than just a sharp piece of iron. There are eight lines of attack, use everyone, and experiment with more advanced ones when you feel confident enough. Parry and riposte. Bash people's face in with your shield! Kick beasts in the testicles. Use everything you have and more to win."
Pulling his eyes from the old man, Jaune glanced over his options. Already having discarded the kirkhammer from the list of potential weapons. While no doubt a mighty weapon, Jaune could never see himself running along with a fifty-kilo (110 lbs) stone hammer on his back. Neither was he going to spend his echoes on a weapon he would never even use. Then it was the saw-cleaver, Gehrman had just destroyed his saw-cleaver, and Jaune wasn't about to ask for another one from the man that could properly fold him in two while still in his wheelchair.
Looking between the saw-spear and axe, Jaune frowned. Before eventually settling on the saw-spear, buckling it up on his back and making it quickly accessible. Wanting it for some more range, and something to hold the ground at medium range as well.
"Good, you chose your weapon carefully. You are not blindly jumping into it like you would have done weeks earlier. There is a difference between picking something up randomly, and considering its strengths and weaknesses, being aware of its shortcomings and having plans and ideas to circumvent them." Gehrman said gruffly from the side. "At the same time, switching gear and weapons is something of a rite of passage among few hunter circles. Different weapons will force you into different situations, situations that you would never otherwise be in and would need to solve with different methods than you are used to. Should you survive, you will be a better hunter overall, with a wider pool of experience to draw from."
"Everything is a learning experience." Jaune replied as he slung on his duster coat, feeling a bit impatient to head back to where he left of. He had been making good ground and he wanted to ride the momentum he had going. Even if having Gehrman open up a bit about his past, reminded him a lot about his late grandfather who would regale him about stories. It gave something familiar to an otherwise bleak situation.
"Yes. Exactly. Hunt, fight, die, repeat. For every beast you slay, do your best to learn something. The moment you stop learning, when you stop improving. That is the moment you die. Maybe not physically, but spiritually and mentally. You accept stagnation, and before you know it, you will find yourself trapped in a mental quagmire. Always continue striving to improve, always try to be better. Hesitate, and you will die. Retreat, and you will turn into fodder." Gehrman said grimly. Giving his protégé a hard look.
Jaune sighed, knowing all to well how right Gehrman was. He didn't like it, but he understood. Having experienced it far too many times before the lesson properly sank in. Hesitation led to death, retreating made his back wide open to whatever he was hunting. Going over his gear one last time, he turned to Gherman. "What… what else can you tell me about your workshop? I don't think I could ever imagine you being so talkative."
"Heh. Curious now?" Gehrman gruffly chuckled. Shaking his head as his eyes twinkled. "Don't worry, I will tell you another time when your mind isn't preoccupied with something else. You are doing good lad. Hunt some more, continue to prove yourself, and I will teach you our art's and traditions. I've had so many hunters come through here from different linages that I had forgotten than you had none."
Before Jaune could open his mouth, Gehrman shut him up with a harsh look. "Beacon is a school. You have a formal curriculum, you are taught to fight your monsters, teamwork and leadership. All good thing, yes. But there are no secret techniques that only a selected few know about. Maybe some secret knowledge, comes with the territory really, but I cannot say. But it's not the same. Here, in Yharnam, an old saying is paramount, knowledge is power. Doubly so when it comes to blood and the arcane. And such knowledge is jealously guarded. The Church's animosity with the Cainhurst is not baseless. Secrets were stolen, and they retaliated in kind. Nothing more, nothing less."
"Often such knowledge is passed down from master to apprentice, like in the case of the crows. Or the hunters of hunters as they call themselves. A pretentious bunch who think they have the moral high ground." A sneer split Gehrman's face, wrath twisting his features into something monstrous. Exhaling, a low growl rang out as Gehrman pulled himself together. "A workshop teaches it's hunters to hunt partly in line with its founding belief's. At the same time every hunter eventually develops their personal 'code', but it's steeped in the workshops belief. A Powder Keg's code will always include something about volatile weapons or explosives. The rest is taught trough mentorships, an experienced hunter taking a newcomer under their wings and getting them up to speed."
"So it's like us?" Jaune asked with a raised eyebrow.
"In a sense yes, but it's often a lot more hand's on teaching. A mentor and the mentee will go hunting together, until the mentee is deemed competent enough. Then, depending on what workshop they belong to, they will either go their separate ways, or partner up. Until one dies and the circle repeats again." Gehrman calmly lectured as he wheeled himself beside Jaune. Stopping before the headstone that sent Jaune to Yharnam. "Keep at it like you are, and I won't say no to teaching you some old tricks. Who knows, maybe The Workshop's presence will be felt once again in Yharnam."
With a shake of his head Jaune snaped his fingers and disappeared in a soft glow. Opening his eyes to where he had left of. Gehrman's word echoing in his ears. An extremely tempting offer was suddenly placed before him. He didn't know much about the Workshops and what it meant, not really having something to compare it to. But that didn't stop him from wanting to learn.
He needed to learn. His team relied on him; they trusted him to lead then. Violet was adamant about learning from him, laying her future in his hands. A responsibility that frighted him to no end. Jaune didn't want to let down either of them. He knew he was worthy of his team's friendship and loyalty, but his insecurity, stemming from cheating his way into Beacon, constantly gnawed at him. He didn't know if his transcripts would be exposed, but the possibility was always there.
The only real plan he had if his transcripts were exposed, was to buckle up, step forward, and be willing to take the blame. A little part of him also wanted to be so good that his spot was unquestionable. Proving to any naysayers that he was worthy of being a student there. He had after all managed to catch up with Cardin in about a month, being able to go toe to toe with most of his classmates. Thirteen years of hunter training, and he had caught up. He yet to become their equal when it came to pure technique, but his battle sense and experience helped to bridge the gap.
His improvement and suffering had to count for something.
But, the possibility of having his transcripts exposed felt downright miniscule compared to Violet's adamant desire to apprentice under him. He had cared and helped with raising his youngest sisters. However, that was raising them, not teaching them, not moulding their future. Violet had looked him in the eyes and gone 'I'm willing to entrust my future to you. Because I trust you. And I know that you only want the best for me.'
Jaune felt overwhelmed, and rightly so. Some day's it felt like he couldn't even properly care for himself. To suddenly have the responsibility to teach and nurture a child for a life in a profession that you couldn't quit.
Being a Hunter wasn't the same as being a Huntsman or Huntress. The latter always had the option to peacefully retire. The only way out for a Hunter was six feet under, and even then, it would never be a whole casket. There was no other option. Not to mention that madness and despair accompanied a Hunter on every step on the way.
Gehrman was mad as a hatter, even if he hid it well, rarely slipping. But being absolutely terrifying when glimpses of what was locked deep inside peaked out. Jaune only needed one look at Alfred to know that the man was a certified zealous lunatic. Not that he could blame the man. After only a month of hunting, even with him taking the 'day' off and being surrounded by friends, he still had many days when it felt like everything was too much and he had to force himself out of bed. He wouldn't blame Alfred for finding solace in religion and faith.
The last hunter he had met was a lady names Eileen, a hunter he had met briefly when asking for directions. He didn't get a good grasp of her then, but it was Yharnam. No one could truly stay sane here. Every hunter was insane in one form or another.
"Stop thinking of things outside of your control. Focus on the hunt, think about it come morrow." Jaune whispered to himself, glad that he was usually safe around the dream's lanterns. Not completely, there had been a few unlucky times he had 'woken up' in Yharnam with a mad man groaning and stumbling close by. But there were no imminent threats. A small mercy he was eternally grateful for.
His hand instantly griped around the handle of Crocea Mors, before he sighed, pulling out the saw-spear instead. Testing the shifting mechanism, trying out some different attacks to get a hang of the weapon. It was a bit uncomfortable to use, some of the teeth pinching his fingers when he gripped it. Swinging it was weird in the start, but he quickly got the hang of it. Figuring out how to use the edge to rip and tear, the tip to lunge and pierce. In all honesty it was a lot like a sword hinged to a stick, only with saw teeth on the edges instead.
Feeling somewhat confident in his new weapon, Jaune made his way towards the old wooden gate. Taking solace in the knowledge that he could always just throw away his weapon and switch to his sword if he needed. He was willing to try and experiment with new weapons, to learn more and improve himself. But he wasn't going to be stupid about it. If the saw-spear was dragging him down, he wasn't going to waste his time using it nor blood stone shards on fortifying it.
"This town is long abandoned. Hunter's not wanted here." He read, frowning before taking a calming breath and pushing the heavy doors open. They were heavy, and the hinges screamed in protest. But eventually they gave way and Jaune stepped foot into what could only be taken right out of old paintings descripting hell. Pillars of thick billowing smoke rising from pyres upon pyres. Men and beast alike hung on burning crosses, long since dead, but the fire still burning. No matter where he looked, he saw decaying buildings and towers of smoke.
"You there, hunter! Didn't you see the warning!" A wizened but strong voice rang out. Cautiously looking around, hard blue eyes travelled over burning pyres and old roofs, trying to pinpoint where the voice came from. "Turn back at once! Old Yharnam, burned and abandoned by men is now only home to beasts. They are of no harm to those above, turn back, or the hunter will face the hunt."
"What?" Jaune mumbled to himself as eventually spotted a grey figure that melded into the background upon a tower far away. Only barley able to make out what would otherwise look like just another stone pillar. Not taking the figures word to heart. Not hunting the beasts seemed and felt like anathema to everything else he had learned and experienced while in Yharnam. It was like saying Huntsmen and Huntresses shouldn't kill the grimm. Madness is what it was.
Ignoring the mad hunters ravings, Jaune instead bent down over a corpse and fished a blood vial and some bullets from it.
Jaune held no love for the beasts, having died one to many times to them for any shred of sympathy to remain. Instead he felt only deep pity. Pity for the countless men and women who had slowly been driven insane as they transformed from human to beast, from human to monster. Mother's and father's that had massacred their families in a mad fit of bestial madness. Only to come to when it was already too late.
He wouldn't wish that sort of pain on even his most hated foe.
A growl tore him out of his thoughts. Acting on instincts Jaune sidestepped as a furry form lunged past him. Looking it over, Jaune felt nothing but sadness at the beast, who had once been a man, turned around and growled at him. The beast had clearly been human once upon a time. It was completely humanoid, with scraggly black fur wildly growing all over it's body. Multiple extra fingers on its hands and feet, that looked more like large claws instead of anything humane. Old and splattered bandages covering it's hideously deformed body.
Shifting his weapon into it's spear form he brough it down on the beasts shoulder, fully intended to cleave it in two. The blade bit into its shoulder, grinding to a halt as it wouldn't go deeper. Pulling the saw-spear towards himself his face fell while the beast's grin rose. The blade was stuck.
Before the beast could lunge at him, he pulled with all his might. Foot coming up and crashing into the beasts stomach, as it was dragged towards him. Loosening the sawblade in the process and tearing chunks of fur on the way out. Not giving the beast a second to rest he shifted the saw-spear back into it's normal form, delivering a deep gash as he tore the blade up. Planting the backwards facing spear tip into its skull on the way back down.
Pulling it out, grey and blackened brain matter coated the spear point as the beast collapsed. Crashing into the brick plaza that was just a broken memory of what once was. Large red bricks jutting out randomly as weeds grew wildly. A meaty wed thud rang out, a ghost from sprouting from its chest.
A look of deep reluctance settled over Jaune as he knelt by the beasts side. Laying his hand over it's chest and reciting the same chant as earlier again.
"By your sacrifice, I do what I must, as I take from you, I give in return. Granting you the peace you so rightly deserve" Silence descended over the little plaza, the ever-burning pyres going silent as a thick mist rose up from the ground. A gentle melody ringing out as hauntingly beautiful white lily's sprouted from nothing. Dancing to an invisible wind as the corpse turned into silver motes of light and disappeared.
Leaving only a little red triangular gem that clattered to the ground. Snagging the gem, Jaune sighed. Recognising it as a tempering blood gemstone.
Looking around he was torn between right and left. Taking the bridge over to the other side or taking the stairs down. Eventually laziness won, and he hurriedly made his way down the steps. Frowning as he took in the half-collapsed balcony. Looking around he spotted a lose brick, kicking it loose and letting it fall and crash into the wooden platform.
The brick tore through some planks, before crashing into the roof tiles. Not wanting to test old and most likely rotten planks, Jaune jumped. Slipping his landing, legs being carried in opposite directions by the sleepy and mossy tiles. Instinct roaring to life, fuelled by a burning desire to not smash his balls, planting his knee into the tiles. Allowing himself a soft sigh of relief when he stopped gliding.
Carefully standing up, he made his way down, taking care to test every tile he stepped on. Not wanting to ride a bob and slide of mossy roof tiles to his doom. With a grunt he landed on solid ground. Almost slipping on a brick that was covered in gunk. Looking around he saw two withering trees further up on the balcony.
A beast hidden under what had once been a nice and white shawl turned to him. Now it was torn and dirty, like everything he had seen in Old Yharnam so far. Once beautiful, now only a haunting visage of what had been.
Hungrily sniffing the air, the beast threw itself towards him. Mad bloodlust shining in its beady black eyes as it threw itself forward. Quickly switching his weapon into it's spear for, he trusted towards the beast neck, missing as the female beast dodged to the side. Instincts screaming at him to do something, he activated the trick mechanism.
The saw-spear clicked shut, clamping like a bear trap around the beasts neck. Blood sprouted as the beast gasped for air. Saw teeth biting deeply into it's neck as it struggled. Madly wailing at the weapon in a last-ditch attempt to get it off. Flexing his muscles he batted his weapon like a bat towards the other charging beast person. The beast woman being dragged along, and right into it's fellows claws.
As the blood-mad beast tore into it's companion, he activated the trick mechanism. Impaling the spear tip into the back of the skull of the feasting beast. The beast crumbled lifelessly into it's companions open stomach.
Looking down at the two corpses he felt more relived than disappointed when he didn't see any new ghost fire sprout on their chest. While Jaune liked to think as himself as a compassionate man, he also knew that if he were to lay every beast he killed to proper rest, he wouldn't get anything done.
With a deep sigh, he got down on one knee, gently laying his hand over the two dead beasts. Reciting his little chant for the third time in what felt like minutes.
"Thank you ~ oh noble hunter." The wind whispered as the beasts turned into silver motes of light and was carried away. He wouldn't be able to do it for every beast he slayed. Noticing how an invisible weight seemed to have settled over his shoulders. But, at the same time, if he could send someone away properly, he would.
It wasn't much, but he felt the night become just the slightest bit brighter.
####
Note: When it comes to 'Loadout's' I'm going by the 3 right side armament and 3 left side armament design from Elden Ring. It's fitting, and in the realms of possibility. While Crocea Mor's will be the main weapon, other weapons will be experimented with by Jaune. And some will gain a permanent spot in his loadout while others will be removed. Especially as he grows more and his needs change. For now he is experimenting, trying something new. And remember this isn't the game, there are no 'Stats' on weapons, some weapons are naturally better than others.
Note: Jaune is no longer the same person who moves without thinking. I hope I captured the feeling of Jaune slowly beginning to grow as a hunter. While no monster in combat, he is inquisitive and cautious. Thinking before he moves.
Note: Blood shards and blood gems had to come from somewhere, so I improvised in a way that hopefully feels organic to the narrative.