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Lady Maria     The city of Yharnam isn't always a pleasant place at night. It is not yet the time in the city's history where the people fearfully barricade themselves indoors, though. The Hunts are a secretive thing confined to Old Yharnam, where the sickness remains contained. The stories of men become beasts are only the ravings of madmen, told to scare children into behaving... Unless you are a member of the Healing Church, in which case these Beasts are a grim reality.
    It is a night like any other, Maria reflects, malodorous vapours filtering from the alleyways to meet her and her gaggle of novices. The moon looms large in a cloudless sky, its sickly pallor blotting out the stars that one assumes ought to be there. Only the sound of boots hitting cobblestones, and the odd crackle of a torch to keep them company.

    "...A fine night for a hunt."
Mortimer Balman      Mortimer exhales a large plume of smoke from his favorite pipe as he walks through quiet streets, the giant Thunderwolf Ulbrecht following close behind him. Fluttering by his side is his faithful butlerfree, which seems quite nervous about this place. "<Sah I know you wished to avoid certain parts of the United States but I do believe we are no longer anywhere *near* those.>" The old badger nodded a bit, "Hm.. Europe, then, perhaps? Some backwoods rural town.."

     Ulbrecht lets out a small whine and then a very large growl, which puts the rest of the group on edge. "<Master Balman, we are being watched.>" "Yeah.. I got that feeling too, Switch. ...Question is are we just being watched, or are we being hunted as well?"

     Mort puffs a small ball of fire across the fog, mentally controlling it to smack into a street light, setting it alight and providing better sight of the place. "<Eugh.. This place has seen better days, Master.>" "Yeah.. Still, could be worse. Could be in New Jersey." "<True.>"
Lady Maria     Lamps are not meant to be lit. The Hunters are not meant to be seen... Of course, the sudden hue of this lamp is in the haze of the street ahead, perhaps just far enough to mask their footsteps. From normal ears, at least. Maria motions for her band to stop, although not to extinguish their torches, watching and waiting. Either someone wished to oppose the Church's rulings... Or the Beasts had developed a more deadly intellect. Her question seems to be answered as a howl sounds out from an alleyway halfway between the two groups. "Weapons," comes the command, as the Lady herself pulls free two blades and locks them together into one.
Mortimer Balman      Ulbrecht lets out another loud growl and answers the howl with one of his own. It is a piercing baying that shakes the ground and buildings nearby- a warning and threat to the lesser wolf-beasts that inhabit this place. Thunderwolves are not small creatures and Ulbrecht is an exemplary specimen of their kind, massive almost beyond imagination. Teeth as big as swords are bared as his nose twitches. "Easy, boy.. Easy now.. We're in a town, that means civilians.." But Mortimer's words go unheeded by his otherwise loyal beast.

     He can smell the corruption and it is a threat to his pack. That is unacceptable. Another howl is let out and his claws dig into the pavement, hackles rising up to make him look even more massive than he already is. The threat is painfully clear now even to the dimmest of creatures- you threaten my pack at your peril.
Lady Maria     "...Extinguish your torches," comes the following command as the first howl is answered by another. And another.... And another. It is clear to Maria's practiced ears that they come from two different throats, at least. Two large and unhappy throats. Yet it is not she and her motley rabble that are met first, but Mortimer and his. A set of deep, red eyes come into view in the vapours of a nearby alley, following by the point of a snout and the near-acidic drippings of a salivating jawline. This is a big one; nothing more than faintly in the shape of a man, and long since divested of any threadbare rags. To anyone else, it would be a werewolf. To the people of Yharnam, it is another Bloodbeast. And it is hungry.
Mortimer Balman      Ulbrecht's nose follows the smell, and then he follows the eyes. And then one of them shows themself. It's not as big as he is by far, but it still seems to be threatening him. "Careful now.. They're probably diseased.." Mort's slowly getting a good look at the creatures, puffing out more fireballs to light more torches for ease of sight. "Switch, what do you think? Spores?" "<Too little wind, Master. Too much open space. Depending on the nature of their sickness, might resist it anyway. I do not believe they can be reasoned with, either.>" "Pity.."

     Mort's hand drops to the short katana hanging off of his hip. "Well, what's it gonna be now, lads?" Asking the Bloodbeasts, unsure if they can understand him at all. "Give us no trouble and we'll be out of yer territory in a wee bit. Or are you just a pack of ferals that need to learn fear..?"
Lady Maria     "There is no reasoning with Beasts," comes a voice from a little further down the street. Commanding, tinted with what sounds like a French accent. From the misty murk steps a distinctly dressed woman, her attire a deep red. In one hand she holds her twinblade, held vertical at her side. "Were I not at least faintly versed in the oddity that is the Multiverse, I might have been immediately inclined to paint you as a Beast too..." She pauses then, flashing a slight smile. "There is still time for that, but first..." From her hip she pulls a crude something with what is evidently a fuse attached to it. A fuse that is swiftly lit, and all while the beast is left to growl a warning as Ulbrecht's size keeps it at bay. The thing is tossed with fluid ease then, impacting the beast's dark fur and proceeding to set the entire thing alight. As it howls and writhes in agony the stinking vapours of the the streets are somewhat cleared... And more beastly figures are revealed to be skulking in the shadows, clawing hands held up to shield their eyes from the light of the fire. "If you wish to live, you will help us purge this nest. They are beyond redemption, and seek only to spread their vile sickness."
    Before Mortimer can even utter his response, a brief whistle signals the novices at her flank to fly forward, no battle cries to follow them as the telltale *click-clang* of trick-weapons being activated is heard.
Mortimer Balman      Mort's ears flick and turn toward the voice. "Aye? Well! I should be grateful, but at this point as often as people make such racist assumptions, it comes off as downright flirtatious." And then she says that there's no hope for the beast. "How awful.. Switch, go make sure the young'uns that're runnin' off there don't get bitten." "<As you wish, sah.>" Slowly the butlerfree flutters off into the dark of the alleys, following the sounds of Maria's apprentices slash henchmen so that he can use his substantial psychic powers to shield them from being bitten, as he can.

     "Ulbrecht. Kill as many as you can grasp, but don't damage the houses, understood?" The great wolf snorts, and then jumps- clearing the houses with ease. Whines and pitiful death knells are all that anyone will hear coming from Ulbrecht's direction; the Bloodbeasts will learn a rather terrifying lesson, namely that Ulbrecht's mouth opens to very scary widths.. And those teeth and the jaw muscles around them are potent enough to cut through reinforced metal, much less flesh and bone.

     As for Mort, his ears just flick around, listening. "There's a small pack of them watching us. They'll have us surrounded in a few more seconds.. The poor bastards."
Lady Maria     "Hmpf," Maria snorts in response to Mort, striding forward but not following her apprentices into the alleys. The sounds of combat are soon quite apparent, along with laboured breathing and fevered footsteps. Well-trained, these Hunters. Maria herself comes to a stop at the lip of the alleyway, eyes briefly glancing down it before she looks to the burning pyre that was once a wolfman. "You have strayed far to have arrived here," she finally decides, without looking at the badger. "If you intend to remain, then it would be wise to cover yourself completely, lest my more zealous brethren decide you are a threat." All of this said evenly and calmly, without a hint of threat in her tone. Matter-of-fact and nothing more, while the anguished yowls of dying beastmen issue a scant few hundred yards away.
Mortimer Balman      Annnd there it is. Mort rolls his eyes with an irritated sigh. "Goddesses forbid I go anywhere without people assumin' I'm a fuckin' demon of some sort.." He follows Maria. "Aye, that we have, lost as Hell. No matter. I'm gonna say the onus is on you and yers to realize I'm not here to cause trouble, merely passin' through. No hospitality left anywhere these days, I swear to the Gods.." Another cloud of smoke follows him as he grouses.

     A beast jumps down in front of him, only to be cloven in half with a single, smooth draw-and-strike motion with a substantial a mount of power behind it. "Foolish critters. Is this anything like rabies? Or is it more like some mystical curse?"
Lady Maria     "Hospitality is a nicety saved for the daylight," Maria quips, blinking only once at the cleave resulting in two gorey halves. Before answering his question, she flicks out her weapon in a more subtle motion, catching a leaping beast in such a way that its aborted leap drags its belly along the tip of one blade, leaving it to land in a pile of innards and blood as its gurgles its last. The odd pained voice sounds out from further ahead, indicating novices sustaining injury, but it does nothing to spur her into movement. She simply flicks her weapon, causing excess gore to spatter along a wall in a neat line. "It is the blood sickness. The scourge of beasts," she replies, evidently not about to expound on what that may mean. "You will be fine, provided you aren't foolish enough to ingest their fluids..." She pauses at that before looking up at him. "Of course, perhaps it wouldn't affect you as it would a human."
Mortimer Balman      "Pfeh." Is all Mort says to her response about hospitality. Curiously, Maria will notice that as her novices are injured, they are being gently but firmly removed from the combat zone. The oversized butterfly creature seems to possess potent psychic capabilities, and is moving them out of the way as they become increasingly wounded- whether they like it or not. "<Yes I am terribly certain you can continue fighting, however if I allow you to continue to do so you will almost assuredly exsanguinate. Please stay out of the way until you can be attended to by a medical professional, thank you and- GET AWAY FROM THEM, YOU FILTH!>" When some of the removed novices are threatened by several beasts, they will suddenly find various large, heavy objects flying at them from all directions, slamming into them with enough force to splatter them across walls and road alike in a grisly spray of blood. "<I AM NOT KEEPING THEM OUT OF HARM'S WAY JUST SO YOU BUGGERING FLEABAGS CAN HAVE EASY MEALS, BEGONE!>" The butterfree has clearly started to lose his temper.

     Mort seems nonplussed by the violent psychic outburst, and kicks at one of the carcasses briefly. "Yea, nah, I think I'd rather have a pork roast. Or maybe some fried chicken. Don't quite smell like good eatin' on those bones, aye?"
Lady Maria     Having seen oddities beyond 'talking butterflies' by this point in her life, Maria seems equally indifferent to the outbursts. She does quirk her brow at the novices beind removed from the fight, a whistle preventing them from retaliating against a 'helpful' guest. Although there are dissenting grumbles, they ultimately move to rest themselves closer to her, allowing the onslaught of heavy and blunt objects to continue without their possible harm. Although they bleed and flinch as they move with their wounds, once they have a moment they each pull something from a satchel and proceed to make sharp stabbing motions into their own thighs... Although their torn and bloodied outfits hide it, their wounds have suddenly begun healing themselves, and they all seem to be able to stand that much more easily given a few moments. Those novices with talent enough not to have been injured continue to fight against the thinning horde of beasts and crazed men, moving with what could only be called supernatural bursts of speed between practiced swings of their weapons. It seems to be enough to bring a small, pleased smile to Maria's fair features. It fades as she looks back to Mort, however. "If you wish for a meal, then Old Yharnam is not where to find it... Of course, you did say you had strayed from your path. I can take you to a nearby chapel for shelter, I suppose."
Mortimer Balman      "Now see *that's* bein' right an' proper neighborly an' friendly! I accept. Obviously we'll not try to bring Ulbrecht inside, most places don't make buildin's fer critters his size. We will, a'course, do our part t'earn our keep by helpin' clean up the local trash." Old Morty absolutely notices the novices are healing themselves, and that many of them move with supernatural speed. As far as he is concerned this is the natural state of how humans are SUPPOSED to behave, so if anything it pleases him to see it. These humans are all proper Fighting-types.

     "Here, dear, give me a spot of space." Politely asking Maria to move just a skosh out of the way. His sword re-sheathed, he starts intoning an incantation. Glowing geometric symbols form around him, crackling with electricity as he chants. "Kiss the feet of Shaymin and rejoice with Trembling at the Dawn of Spring, lest Thou perish along the way, when His wrath is kindled but a little." His hand grips the sword's hilt again.. But when he draws it again, it comes screaming with a wave of thunder and lightning in a wide arc that flies across the alley and street, taking a strong gust of wind with it. Obviously, it won't hurt the stone fixtures and houses, though it should certainly help clean the 'trash'. "Cursed Iron Forest: Southern Monsoon Winds!"
Lady Maria     Although she bristles at being referred to as 'dear', Maria makes no mention of it and simply steps aside as requested while casting a wary look at Mort and whatever he's doing. It presernts a moment for her to look at her reinvigorated apprentices however, a flick of her head motioning for them to depart and continue the patrol. It seems that the night has become safe enough with this battle to allow for such. Maria herself remains present for this demonstration of sorcery however, blonde brow furrowing in response to it. Such things were quite doable in Yharnam of course, although only among those scholars of Bergenwerth... But that was not a topic for the time being. Now was a time to watch as old shutters, rusting on their hinges, clatter and groan as they're rattled about suddenly while corpses and injured beasts are sent tumbled away quite spectacularly.
Mortimer Balman      Mort will whistle once the wind stops blowing, calling to his beast. The thunderwolf will bound through the streets until he's in front of the old soldier, tail wagging and panting heavily. Face and teeth coated in blood. "Aw ya gone an' made a mess of yerself. Don't swallow none of that!" Ulbrecht sneezed in response, causing him to spit out most of the nasty tasting fluids. He'll start sniffing at Maria next, curious about the strange human in front of him. She smells mythical.

     "Are yer young'uns gonna be alright out there on their own, miss? We don't mind helpin' out more if it means they're more like to come home. ...Oh where are my manners? I'm Mortimer Balman. That floatin' feller over there is my faithful butler, Switchbait, and this big lad here is Ulbrecht."
Lady Maria     Mythical and not human, unlike the apprentices who were around her until moments before. Apparently she isn't a fan of being so closely surveyed, because she makes a point of taking a step away from the large creature. It won't prevent him from sniffing at her of course, but it makes the point all the same. "My 'young ones'?" she asks, quirking a brow. She shakes her head slightly. "They know their work. They will return to their barracks in due time. I will take you to the chapel." She begins to move down the street then, only to pause and glance at him. "Vicar Amelia is more amenible than most, so you won't need to cover up, but refuse her ministration if she offers it."
Mortimer Balman      The wolf tilts its head from side to side while puzzledly studying her, unsure of what to make of Maria. It's almost puppy-like, all things told, especially when he moves his paw at her and waves it a little, but without actually touching. "Aye. They /are/ obviously followin' /you/, unless I'm mistaken somethin' hard- ay, Switch! C'mon, we're bein' politely offered a place t'rest fer a spell." "<Coming, sir!>" Looking rather tired, the poor butlerfree flutters up to land on Ulbrecht's head and rest there. As a group now, they follow Maria. "Refuse her ministrations? Dare I ask why? Would hate t'seem rude to someone what's givin' us a roof."
Lady Maria     The paw is observed, but not reacted to. At least she doesn't show any kind of irritationg. Rather, Maria continues in her movements as she responds to Mort. "Blood ministration is not meant for those who are not unwell... And she may think you 'unwell', given your..." Pause. "...Appearance." So, in other words, anyone with fur is deemed to have the sickness that is apparently affecting the beasts. "She'll give you a cot and a meal, and send you on your way in the morning. Old Yharnam is safe in the daylight, and you'll be able to find passage out of the city."
Mortimer Balman      A slow nod of understanding. "Ahhh, yea, that's fair. No need fer the good Vicar t'waste her energies on someone what isn't sick." Mort will calmly re-light his pipe and fill the area with sweet apple-scented smoke. "Mighty gracious of you an' yers, miss. We appreciate it greatly.. Ah.. What didja say yer name was, again?"
Lady Maria     "I didn't," the blonde responds curtly, although she sighs and huffs a faintly amused sound. "But you may call me Maria." There's a light chuckle at that as she shakes her head. "It has been quite some time since someone thought to ask me my name, and I would have hardly thought it to be someone such as you. And please, don't take that as an insult." As she says this, the path they walk widens, heading down a cobblestone staircase into a small valley with a chapel clearly at its centre. Her apprentices can be seen flitting about its perimeter, once more with torches as they carry out their patrols.