Bloodborne - Fires of Yharnam

Artorias

Highlord of the Tal'Darim
Original poster
LURKER MEMBER
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Invitation Status
Posting Speed
  1. 1-3 posts per week
Writing Levels
  1. Adept
  2. Advanced
  3. Prestige
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
  2. Primarily Prefer Male
Genres
Action, Fantasy, Romance, Modern, Magical, Sci-Fi, Steampunk, etc.
Golden light showered over the Victorian Gothic city of Yharnam. The final glimmering rays of the precious sun was sinking slowly over the horizon as the city burned. A Hunt like no other had swept across Yharnam--like a plague it moved fast and couldn't be contained as Yharnamites took up arms to hunt beasts but quickly found themselves turning into the very things they aimed to hunt. The humanoid horrors patrolled the streets as they dragged dead beasts into the street and crucified them on a burning cross.

Healing Church Hunters covered in black or white garb were the first and quick to act. Leaving Cathedral Ward in attempt to close off sections of the city and purge the plague but were overrun or turned themselves. Hunters from the Workshop shared a common goal with the Healing Church but ultimately met a similar fate and now hope was beginning to fade from Yharnam.

Would this be the end of Yharnam?


-----

Deep within Yharnam was a decrepit home surrounded by crumbling walls and cast iron gate. A Hunter known as Viktor had taken up residence inside the home to gather thought and formulate a plan. Three foreigners laid unconscious in the next room from the Hunter. He had brought them here to perform the procedure of blood transfusion safely.

The home had been abandoned for years and had been falling apart without proper maintenance. The iron smell of dried blood clung to the air as if heavy bloodshed had occurred only moments ago. The foreigners were placed on cots in the dimly lit room.

They would be waking soon with no memories of their past, or what was going on. He would explain everything once they were situated and have come to accept the hand they have been drawn.
 
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Where have you gone? What malign purpose has called you away from us?

Us. He knew no us. All he knew was emptiness and an anger he couldn't explain. It lingered like a sickness in the crevices of his mind, undefined, hazy. Dizzying and wholly encompassing. It was all he could know until his stomach turned and tore him from whatever dark place he'd been trapped in, twisting his body and forcing him to heave up something slick and black and burning onto the floor. He reeled from the shock of his awakening and sucked in breath after breath, heart pounding, fingers clenched tightly around his clothes. He was dumb and listless for a long minute.

And then his strength returned as slowly as ever. That felt familiar. Age was catching up, wasn't it? He shuddered and hauled himself to his feet.

Before him was a sparsely furnished room. Dim lantern light painted the walls an eerie orange, barely illuminating the path ahead. Behind him was the cot he'd woken on, and on either side were two more. The presence of others didn't register until he'd made it to the door and collapsed against it. He'd turned, back against the cracking wall, and tried to catch his breath.

Yes-- there were others. Two women who both unconscious. He found some semblance of comfort in the fact that he was not alone, wherever he was.

That brought up another issue. He couldn't remember... anything. Nothing at all. His mind was blank, save for a name-- Leonhardt. He knew that was him. The clothing he wore was unfamiliar and scratched at his skin, but there was no keepsake to be found as he searched his pockets.

Instinct told him to be wary. Leonhardt pushed away from the wall and grasped the door handle, then pushed it open with what little strength he could muster. He found that he didn't really want to know what was on the other side.




 
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Kitty White

It wasn't the same as where she'd been and where she'd traveled. The dim lights were no brighter than that of a dull candle that barely gave her the glow she needed to write letters. Kitty groaned and shifted on the uncomfortable cot below her body. Blood clinged to the air like disease and left a bad taste in her mouth as she breathed in the pollution. It would've done her no good to hold her breath and pretend that everything was fine. An unfamiliar room, small and in ruins, greeted her eyesight.

Dust and dirt was prominent throughout the room; books had neared the end of their days and a few chairs had been crushed where they once stood. Her head felt light, but her body, it felt different. Stronger and no longer betrayed by the Scarlet fever that had devoured her body and mind whole. She gradually sat up and ran her hand through her tangled hair. Her fingers crawled along her arms to find any sort of intravenous work done; her upper left arm had been covered in a dirtied bandage.

It took Kitty a few minutes to assess the situation; another woman laid unconscious and the creak of a door opened nearby caught her attention. She realized in that brief time period she could not remember anything, no matter how hard she tried to.

"Wait," Her voice sounded muddled and exhausted. Kitty stood up and approached the man with caution. She stopped at a good distance away from him; six feet and counting. "Do you know where we are?"

Tag @Dipper
 
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A ragged cough passed between the unknown hunter's lips as his breathing picked up, labored breaths before breaking out in a short coughing fit as the soon-to-be hunters were stirring awake. "I don't have much time left. . ." Viktor coughed out and lowered the cloth piece that covered his mouth. Blood was staining the corners of his lips before being wiped away on the back of the gloves before the cloth was moved back up over the nose.

Unholstering the sidearm strapped to his belt, the aging hunter moved to the dimly lit room as he could hear the group beginning to move, muddled voices barely heard through the thick walls of the mansion. Door slowly opening with a low moaning creak as Viktor stood in the doorway with pistol aimed towards the ground. "I don't have much time to explain young hunters, but you must end the hunt." Viktor coughed out and covered his cloth covered mouth with a gloved hand.

"My time is coming..." He spoke in a muffled voice as his hand still covered it. It must be so sudden and confusing to them. They had no memories of who they were or why they were here, and here was a man armed to the teeth and sounded as if he was at death's door speaking about the 'hunt' and how they must end it.

"There are others like you. Seek them out and transcend the moon. End the hunt." Viktor spoke one final time before taking a step back away from the doorframe and slipping into the darkness of the mansion. Looking for him would prove fruitless, as if all traces of his existence had disappeared with him.

Sitting upon a table near the exit of the home was the remaining weapons and clothes of the Hunters. They were wrinkled and folded crudely as if picked through. Perhaps there were others before the group had awoke? Perhaps they were part of some game? All they knew besides their own names was that they needed to end the hunt. As vague as it was.
 
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The question was pointless, as he knew no more than she did, but he spared her a glance. Leonhardt’s first attempt at words devolved into a growl, so he tried again. “No,” he rasped, coughing dryly. His eyes were red-rimmed and hazy, still recovering from whatever death-sleep he’d just woken from. He pushed the door the rest of the way open, only to stumble back in surprise with a string of rude swears as a man appeared in the doorway before him.

The man spoke as if he were dying. None of what he said made any sense, however, and Leonhardt was left feeling just as confused as when he’d woken up, if not more so. Leonhardt gave a snort when the man finished and bled into the shadows less like a man, and more… something else. It unsettled Leonhardt, who took his time in unraveling the man’s mystery before he considered the rest of the actual message-- a job, if nothing else. An assignment.

What for? Why him? Why any of them? Perhaps if he could recall even a smidgen of his past, the situation wouldn't have been so strange. As it was, a headache was building behind his eyes that sent his mood into a sharp nosedive. He didn't want this, or was fairly certain he didn't.

What was going on?

Nonetheless, Leonhardt examined the rest of the room a second time, where a new set of clothing was waiting. He could get out of these itchy undergarments, at least. He slipped into the new attire like it was a second skin, covering nearly every surface of his body save for his eyes. For that, he was thankful.

There was something missing. His fingers twitched.

He had an idea why.
 
Kitty White

Her eyes widened as another man stumbled into the shortly after she'd asked the stranger her question. He was dying, but he spoke nonsense. His time was coming; that much was clear. 'Transcend the moon, end the hunt.' Mystical, but deranged. She scoffed, "What in the world are you blabbering on about? Where's a medic? Lay down. We have to tend to your wounds. You're dying, sir."

Kitty stepped forward to gently grab the man, but he was already backing up.

"Wait, what are you doing? Sir!"

Kitty rushed after him, but the moment she stepped into the darkness, he was nowhere to be found. Her hand ran through her hair in an effort to detangle her tresses. It was rather irritating to only be given so much information, yet no name. Kitty didn't want to follow the man's directions, however, the garb he'd left for her was something she was more than happy to take on.

"I've been dying to get out of this," she muttered as she stripped down and immediately threw on the attire. Leather coat, cotton pants, and a strap on for pistols. She grabbed the cane nearby and examined it. It seemed potent, good for giving someone a spanking when they needed it. She observed the lines, the smooth wood, and the architecture. Something was different about it.

"There's something inside this. Another weapon, perhaps."