Fantasy The Endless Night - A Gothic Dark-Fantasy Roleplay [IC] [CLOSED]

[EdwardDewey98]

The trio could see the marching mass of torches nearing Ol' Catan. Hopefully his hood would allow Valko to walk through the choir unharmed. After a few seconds, the young priest nodded, looking at both Valko and the Nun. "I understand... I won't take much of your time." The priest placed the posters he was so zealously clutching inside his bag, before pulling a letter out and offering it to Valko. "I'm Izold, brother of the Brotherhood of Light... the Deacon has approved your request. You'll be granted temporal amnesty, as long as you help the church for a determined period of time. I can guide you to the church, should you desire."

Valko opened the wax-sealed letter. It contained what was expected: it granted amnesty to Valko as a servant of the Church, siting the clause of St. Nathaniel, and legally granting Valko limited immunity from Wer judgement. This temporal amnesty would be extended after his services are no longer required, as long as the vampyr continued to check in with the church. Terms that made sense, but ultimately felt restricting to some extent. While Valko continued reading the letter, Izold eyed Hannalore as she stood near. "I trust you'll keep this meeting a secret, sister...Why don't you come with us?" he said, while waiting for Valko's response.

 

[Breadman]

Yanitsa's pace quickened as she heard the bells. She didn't want to be anywhere near any group of people, favoring the alleys and empty streets to detour away from the mobs. The merchant paid little attention to the buildings as she passed them, focusing mainly on those walking the streets. The few bodies she passed by did nothing but convince her to stay as far as she could from these people. Not like she was innocent, but being beaten to death is hardly a good fate.

Soon enough she would see the Church's rooftops and would breathe easier if she still could. The mass of people had passed through, leaving only those intent on guarding the sacred grounds. Which presented another obstacle to clear. 'Where was it?' She wondered. 'Which one of these buildings is the quarters of those Oathkeepers?' After short time of wondering, she narrowed it down to the building that looked like there were some activity of people coming in and out. 'As good as place as any to start.'

Yanitsa walked to the door and knocked to announce her presence. As far as she knew, this still counted as holy ground and she needed an invitation still.

"If this is the Oathkeeper's quarters, may I please come in? I saw the posters hung on the walls of the city and want to contribute my help."

 

[joshuadim]

Asher, underneath his mask, wore an expression of sorrow as he viewed what was a city tearing itself apart. He had witnessed civil instability in the many realms he had traveled through during these trying times, yet there was something especially brutal about Castow that wrenched at him. The corpses piling up, the stench, the downtrodden masses without guidance, the cruelty shown towards others... it seemed to be on another level here. The sight of a woman being beaten senseless and then robbed by those who claim to do good, and the hypocrisy of such a situation, brought Asher to nearly confront the men until he was led along further by Sister Beauchamp. Perhaps it was better this way, but he wished he could have helped the woman.

"That woman... what was her crime?" Asher asked Beauchamp, "If the punishment was to be beaten by a mob, I do not understand what she could have done."

 

[Radley]

Raili was just about strongly berate Castelluccio that while they were part do the church, it was purely by distant relation at this point. The Order of the Path of Saint Arkhan had never received the churches full blessing, aside from some personal assurances of some bishops and cardinals over the years. All that the order had done was of their own volition and by harnessing the power of their own faith. When the deacon made threats of excommunication and reminded her of his position in the church's hierarchy, she scowled at him. The threats were meaningless to Raili, and the ranks of the church were ultimately meaningless if the circle of stars descended upon them and drowned them in darkness. All she could see before here was a man of the cloth reaching out to the outcast and the shunned to save this pathetic man as he clutched the rungs of the ladder of power.

Raili was appalled, tightening her grip around the pommel to such a degree that it made her leather gloves creak.

As the hunters made their entrance, she noted them briefly. The hunting order had done quite a good job, and Raili had no reason to dislike them. Perhaps some of them were of little faith, but their service was undeniably beneficial to Arkhans cause, and ultimately to all werkind.

As the two women entered the room, Raili noted the gentle tone in which Castelluccio approached them, especially the later one. The streets and walls of the taverns told tales of how the deacon could sense impure blood. Raili did not believe in such idle talk, but none the less kept an eye on the later woman. With a intense glare she inspected Cecillia from top to toe, he sword still rest against the floor in front of her bloody apron.

 

[FloweryMuffin]

Luck...it was rarely on her side. It always seemed to find new ways to screw with her, in the worst of moments.

Like in that moment, when she found herself standing before the priest, as she felt his eyes bore into her very soul and she realized, much to her dismay, that he saw and he knew. Of the curse, the reason she could barely keep her eyes open. It terrified her. So much so that she couldn't bring herself to speak. She didn't miss the caution he was treating her with either, although in her current state, she wasn't particularly threatening. Nevertheless, he could just as easily execute her then and there as he was speaking with her,

"Can I help you…?"

Just then and there she found, that she really didn't think about what she would do, what she would say should she find herself at the end of some long days of travels. She would circumvent her own intentions. But for how long? Until when?

But there was no need for that anymore.

She rubbed her eyes a few times in an attempt to chase away the drowsiness, as she scanned the room, trying to find a way out of there.

And yet… She barely managed to keep her voice from stuttering, all the while avoiding the way the abnormally tall woman standing a few ways away stared her down. That didn't encourage her at all.

"I was hoping...that I could offer my aid to you," the last part having come out barely loud enough to be heard.

 

[K0mori]

Having finished reading the letter and very briefly considered Izold's offer, Valko replied. "Yes. Take me there," he said. Walking with the priest and the nun would greatly reduce the suspicions of passers by, despite his dark and gloomy appearance. A letter wouldn't do much to reduce their ire. He desired some form of identification which would prevent him from being mobbed in the future; perhaps an emblem or a medallion would be appropriate. He would share these concerns with the proper authorities.

 

[EdwardDewey98]

The marching mob began to walk through the Church Ward, giving Yanitsa more reason to knock harder on the door. And luckily for her, someone answered the door. It was a pilgrim, and based on his milky eyes, the man did not have good enough vision to detect her vampyric features. "Hello, child. I'm afraid you've picked the wrong building... This is the Pilgrims Inn, after all." The old pilgrim coughed some blood up, spitting it on the ground. It took him a few moments to regain his breath, eventually looking back in Yanitsa's general direction. "...The Oathkeeper's Order has a resting place right next to the Church of St. Charlot, just a few steps down the street." Stanimirova looked up her shoulder at the street, the ominous building looming over things. She knew where to go now.

Just a few streets away from the Church Ward, Asher stopped the sister to ask why the Catanachs had carried out such a brutal sentence. She was lost for a moment, unsure what answer to give him. "I... I wish... they..." She looked at the masses going down the street, a few steps away from them. "Things have become really violent in Castow, sir... The Catanachs and the Freemen alike are out for blood. Being bitten by a beast is a death sentence to them, even if we are trying to heal those afflicted by the blood of the beast. They also accuse innocents of being vampyrs, and of spreading the vile blood to create more like them." The sister looked down for a moment, clenching the posters to her chest. "...That's why we need all the help we can get, sir."

"OI!" they heard down the street. Asher and Beauchamp looked to the group of Catanachs, one aiming a blunderbuss at them. "Look at us!" one of them shouted while another approached them cautiously, shinning their lamp on their face. The lamp holder eyed them from head to toe, clicking his tongue when he noticed Asher was a foreigner. "Tsk... Both are Wer." he said, tipping his hat at the sister, and then giving a look of contempt at Asher. "Better keep your head down, outsider...Yer kind ain't wanted here unless ye behave like the Queen." The man spat on the ground in front Asher, before walking away. Sister Beauchamp looked down once more, taking deep breaths before looking back at Asher. "It's best if we don't say anything to them, sir, for you are outnumbered... Let us reach the Church first. I promise the Deacon will properly inform you of all that's been going on." With that said, both continued up the path until they neared the Church of St. Charlot.

Inside the Oathkeeper's Quarters, the Deacon realized that this young Solusian, while she offered help to the church, she also wanted salvation. Something the father quickly sympathized with. He looked over his shoulder at the others before looking back at Cecilia. "Of course, child. We will take all the help we can get." he said, while gently patting her on the shoulder. This surprisingly got a response from Tremeur, who looked at both women with a smile. "Not to make an ass of m'self here, and sorry if I offend ye ladies... but you don't seem like hunters." he said, while crossing his arms. Eyeing Octavia a bit more. The father nodded, agreeing with him. "I agree, hunter." He looked back at Cecilia and Octavia with a faint smile. "...But they will be properly equipped. Besides, volunteers will not hunt if they can avoid it. I'll explain everything when I've gathered all volunteers."

Tremeur shrugged, still smiling while now eyeing Raili. Castelluccio then looked at Octavia, and he realized that both he and the hunter took her for granted and quickly apologized. "I'm sorry, child. I assumed that you are here to volunteer your services. Are you looking for something else?" he asked. All while Chibuike eyed both of them with suspicion.

 

[Infab]

Octavia eyed almost everyone in the room, wary of each of them. And why shouldn't she be? Whomever hit across the head could still be around. And could try and finish the job, if they were aiming to kill her. As she looked about, she listened quietly to the Deacon as he spoke to the woman that came in with her. The tall woman eyed the other woman like she was a future corpse...and she might be as the blood stains on her apron spoke volumes. Either another hunter, or a zealot...or both.

The other man spoke up, one of the pair of hunters that had entered before her. He seemed...nice? The other, older female hunter that was with him, however, did not. The accents varied amongst those that spoke. Mostly foreigners, it seemed, all gathered together here in Castow. Volunteers for some sort of church related project.

Octavia looked to the Deacon, as he spoke directly to her. "I was sent here by the Chirurgeon, Dr. Thorpe." she said. "...I woke up with little to recollect." She glanced to the others, mainly the two hunters, before looking back to the Deacon. "I am Octavia Lascar, from the Kingdom of Gitova...What are we volunteering for, exactly?"

 

[Emperor Sagan]

Hannalore offered a soft smile in response to Izold, met with a bow of the head. She dared not speak aloud among the hour with these uncivilized crowds taking to the streets. Her own accent was deep, twinged with the further flavor of a dialect that bespoke of her origin as being far from this place and in a land shrouded in dark mountains and foggy moorland. Most did not bother her for this, but some had hinted at trouble through threats or cold demeanors. Only one had made an attempt on her life, a young man with a knife that had believed with every fiber of his being to be purging a vampyr. His body was almost certainly gone by now thanks to the assistance of the rats. She had merely brought his corpse to an open drain and rolled him in.

She followed along behind Valko and Izold, surveying both of them through her partial under-veil that further shielded her upper face beneath her hood. What a curious man the taller one was, while the small priest seemed... earnest. It had been a while since she had coherent company. The priest and these posters did offer something more than just that, naturally, and that was a spark to her inner ambition that none knew of. Rewards were offered in exchange for volunteer service. From the Deacon, nonetheless. She didn't care too much for coinage or resting quarters, as grand as such things were. She could sleep anywhere, from a dungeon pen where the previous deceased occupant still remained, to a dirt floor barn, to someone else's bed, generously offered to her given her station while the owner slept on the flea ridden floor. Rewards... yes. That could be the making of her dream.

 

[Breadman]

"Ah, my mistake." Yanitsa spoke softly to the old man. He hadn't noticed her features, so there was no reason to give up something else. The less of someone talking about a vampyr snooping around the church, the better. "I thank you for your help otche. Do feel better soon." She turned around to walk away, but stopped to wait for the mob to disperse before even stepping on the street.

After a short while it was safe. Moving quickly before another mob showed up, she made it down towards the building. Once again she would knock on a door and ask to be let in. Curse the Saints and their arbitrary rules.

"Hello, may I come in? I saw the posters and wish to lend my services."

 

[Humble1]

Fulstan's heart sank at the sight of the procession. At his age, staying up all night was no minor mistake. He'd be paying off the debt of sleep for days.

Still, he had a few more hours before the exhaustion overcame his mental energy. Best make use of it. He set his kettle brewing a blend so dark and black in might as well be named Eternal Night. After some consideration, he donned a more sober outfit, better for making an appearance in a church. While washing with a damp cloth he choked down the potent brew - tannin so thick he could feel his tongue turning brown - and forced himself to eat a heel of bread with a bit of cheese. He'd need the energy.

A glance at the crowd told him that a Volkish astrologer might not be welcome. He carefully unbraided his beard and pulled a simple hooded cloak to cover his clothes and hair. He hunched himself forward and staggered out into the procession, finding a cluster of older residents. They shuffled aside, allowing a fellow greybeard into their ranks. As Saint Markham had said, "The elderly all live in the same country, and it has only one border."

He murmured along with the hymns as they made their stately way towards the church. Really, the Verancois hymns were so much less bombastic than the Volkish hymns, he approved of the reserve but they were less fun to sing. For the moment, hidden in a crowd of the faithful and covered by song and torch-smoke, he was likely as safe as he could get in public. In this mobile sanctuary he kept his gaze roving, looking to see who else was out at this hour ...

 

[joshuadim]

"It is not numbers one should fear, but rather the intent." Asher replied in a calm manner as he observed those filled with fear and hate pass by and give their remarks. Something needed to be done, but what exactly? He alone couldn't change the outcome of this city, but perhaps with small deeds one could make a difference. It was something he pondered as he continued to follow Sister Beauchamp towards what appeared to be a church. A rather grand structure for the faith that was followed in these lands, although it was a faith that Asher was not familiar with all too well. The only one that mattered was the God he served in the end.

 

[EdwardDewey98]

Sister Beauchamp and Asher approached the church, but they were not alone on their walk there. The nun noticed just a few steps away, there was another pair of members of the church. A common nun who she couldn't recognize, and Brother Izold, member of the Brotherhood of Light. There was nothing to say, not now with the populous marching down the streets. Were they to notice that a vampyr walked among them, they would tear him to pieces even with all the members of the church surrounding him.

Fulstan arrived first, and saw the vampyress standing by front door of the Order quarters. She didn't notice the old scholar, still waiting for someone to open these blasted doors. Yanitsa couldn't open them herself; This was hallowed ground after all. She needed the invitation of a mortal to step inside the building. Even knocking on the door stung her hand a bit. Just as she was about to knock again, the other volunteers had finally arrived. Separating themselves for the crowds marching through the Church Ward. Izold stepped up to the door, giving both Fulstan and Yanitsa a polite little bow before opening the door.

He turned around to look at Yanitsa and Valko. "I welcome you to this holy ground. Please, come in." It was a strangely unnerving to step in, for vampyrs who cross the threshold of the church often say that it feels like the sun is burning them alive. Being the man of few words, Valko stepped first, unaffected. Then Yanitsa walked in, unnaffected as well, and the rest soon joined them. They could hear the voices coming from deep inside the building...

Castelluccio nodded as Octavia explained herself. "...Bad memory? We can try to treat that here. And I admit... I am glad you are offering your help as well, young child. If you are, that is. I shall explain things when everyone has gathered here." The father seemed sincere, even if he seemed a bit nervous. The foreign woman nearby, Chibuike, seemed to be eyeing Octavia with suspicion. Her piercing dark eyes were like daggers, inspecting her. Looking for imperfections. Tremeur heard the steps coming from down the hall. "We've got more people coming in." he stated, while getting off the wall. Ready to welcome them into this strange little meeting. "Father Castelluccio, we've arrived and we've gathered some volunteers." said Beauchamp, while stepping into the room first. She made a little bow to the people already in the room. "Fantastic news, sister!" said Castelluccio, but as soon as Yanitsa walked into the room, the hunters immediately pulled their weapons.

"Castelluccio, you dumb motherfucker!" said Chibuike, as she rushed towards Yanitsa. Her mace was just a few inches away from hitting her face, but she was stopped by Castelluccio who pushed her away. Tremeur and Raili were ready to attack as well, but the Deacon stood in between them. "ENOUGH!" he shouted. "I am citing the clause of St. Nathaniel to grant amnesty to the werhobs who volunteer!" He stood there, shaking ever so slightly as the armed hunters looked at him. Chibuike clicked her tongue, her mace still ready to strike, but she felt it was necessary to listen to the Deacon. "What the hell does that mean? Explain yourself." She was not happy about having these creatures in the room. The three of them unaware that Valko was still hiding his vampyric features.

"St. Nathaniel was a martyr, and later canonized a saint. And a vampyr..." Castelluccio lowered his arms, taking a deep breath. "...He was a knight under the service of the Queen of Veranoir. A noble knight who sacrificed himself fighting the savages of the north, giving time for his fellow knights to escape. He was granted sainthood after some of his miracles were proven by the Prince-Bishop of La Chaney." The Deacon looked over his shoulder at Valko, who was still hidden among the volunteers. "I'm using my powers as Deacon of the Church. Should you defy my will, I'll have you branded apostates." Tremeur looked at the others and shrugged, sheathing his weapon. "...Eh, fine by me." he said, while giving Yanitsa an interested look.

 

[Emperor Sagan]

Hannalore drank in the scenery and the figures about her like a fine wine, slow and thoughtful. The hunters here were... well, fairly typical in their brutish ways, though she did find herself somewhat let down that the deacon had prevented the woman from smashing in the face of the other woman, a vampyr. It caused her skin to tingle and her cheeks to blush a mild crimson, like that of a peach, as she considered that she was close enough to be spritzed with blood had the attack gone through. She was no stranger to violence and death, yet a face being rendered concave by a mace in such close proximity to her was a pleasure she had not enjoyed yet. Rather a shame that today was not going to grant her that.

A strong deacon was a little worrisome, in the sense that he may not be one to haggle. In a general sense, she knew she would be asking for a lot, but given that it wasn't so much a material request but a cause was promising enough; her cause was a devout one. Clearly, the deacon was a devout man. This was still the closest she had ever been to accomplishing her goal and nothing had even happened yet.. She remained demure as the situation was, at least temporarily, defused. "It is a pleasure to meet you all," she hummed politely.

Then, remembering who she was, she added the required catechism, "By Mercy's Way, may my hands be guidance to those who ail in body and spirit." Not only a hospitaller's phrase, but one that marked her out as a disciple of Saint Lucifina, a relatively minor figure that was not well known outside regional usage, and even then only through sparse convents of followers that exist in aforementioned regions. In the backwater of Merkatz, for example. She had not met any fellow sisters this far away from her homeland. Which was for the best.

 

[Infab]

Octavia nodded towards the Deacon, glancing to the foreign hunter woman nearby whom seemed to be glaring at her. Did she have a staring problem or something? Octavia had done nothing wrong. She was about to say something, when Tremeur stated that someone was coming down the hall. Octavia turned a bit, stepping out of the way to see whom was coming. Two more church officials, a nun and another younger priest. And with them...a vampyr, a strange man from the east, yet another religious official with her eyes covered, a older bearded man, and a rather handsome man in a hood.

The hunters in the room reacted nearly as expected, drawing their weapons as one shouted. They charged, but were halted by the Deacon. Octavia eyed each of them. This is going to be a very short lived volunteer party if this is going to be the typical way of things between them. And whatever they were volunteering for...if the church was accepting werhobs as volunteers, then the situation was dire. She was starting to regret coming here at this hour.

 

[Breadman]

"You church people always make us feel so welcome." Yanitsa finally spoke after the deacon was done explaining why she was there. She expected hostility, but to be outright attacked on the spot after being invited was a surprise. She wasn't a stranger to defending herself and would have likely tried to retaliate. At least she believed so. He initial scorn and indignation faded when she turned her attention to the deacon "But I would be in the wrong if I did not thank you for your intervention, otche. This incident, I will swallow it down and choose to overlook it for our mutual benefit, gospoda. I'm sure you'd agree that it would be for the best." She noticed one of the other hunters giving her a look, but did not think about bringing it up...yet. Instead she let the other woman with the veil speak. Interesting, that one. The others seemed interesting as well just by a glance. The old scholar piqued her interest. What could he be doing here? And that outlander. Obviously he had traveled a long way here. Very rare to see someone like him here.

 

[FloweryMuffin]

Cecilia flinched slightly at the touch, nodding slightly. She was about to take a deep breath, relieved, some of her fears easing up. She stopped herself halfway through, as she watched the newcomers: a small priest, two nuns- one whose eyes she couldn’t quite see and one accompanied by a masked man-, another man whose features she couldn’t particularly make out, an older bearded man. And lastly, a vampyr. Perhaps she should be wary of the woman, but she found that she was relating to her, somehow; because they were both cursed, no matter that they were entirely different.

The hunters were quick to react, readying themselves to attack the vampyric woman, but the deacon stopped them before anything too grave happened. That didn’t seem to sit well with the the huntress, who took to staring very attentively at the Gitovan - Octavia- who was unphased.

She rubbed her eyes every once in a while as she continued to observe the other people, occasionally locking gazes with the ones who were themselves scanning the room. To think that the Church would accept anyone, regardless of what they were or weren’t, it clearly showed the way the lack of sun was affecting them- their thinking even, but she was grateful nonetheless for the chance. It also showed how bleak the entire situation was.

 

[Humble1]

Fulstan chose a padded bench off to the side. Anything too comfortable might lull him to sleep, anything too hard might make his bones ache when sleep became an option. With practiced motions, he began re-braiding his beard back into the style that befitted a Volkish courtier. He would likely never be one again, but it kept his whiskers out of the way while he worked.

With his hands engaged, he was free to look around the room. Years of dealing with the darker side of politics in Volkmar had given him an instinct for reading people. He recognized the vampyress for what she was immediately, just from the way she made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He'd deal with her from a distance for now.

There was an unassuming woman in the mix who caught his eye, a Solusian and a poor one at that. He wondered briefly why she was here, but something about the smoothness of her unconscious motions let him identify her as a werewolf. Possibly. She might just be athletic. He'd hold off passing final judgment until she grew fur. For now, he'd probably have to dust off his copy of De Praestigiis Versipellis - "The Tricks of the Turn-Skins" - and remind himself of the signs.

Of course, the one that set his instincts ringing like Church-bells was the nun. Something was wrong there, but he couldn't put a label on what. By her words,
a follower of Saint Lucifina, which by itself was neither here nor there. Something about her eyes, something about the placid way she handled the threat of lethal violence not three steps away, the faint blush and almost dreamy delivery of her greeting ... something was strange here. Perhaps it would be better if he didn't know.

What a fine nest of demons I've found in this holy place.

 

[EdwardDewey98]

Chibuike looked at Castelluccio with anger, but after Tremeur sheathed his weapon, she did the same. Clicking her tongue as Hannalore introduced herself to the group. She looked at the sister for a few minutes. There was something strange about her, just like the Gitovan woman. But she kept her thoughts to herself. Things were starting to look calm, but Castelluccio knew that was only a ruse. The tensions were high, and the hunters were ready to strike the vampyr down should she try to do something. The Deacon took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves before asking everyone to move to the dinning area.



A rather fancy room as expected, since most of the Oathkeepers were noble knights, members of minor royalties and the like. It was decorated with weapons on plaques and armorstands, most covered or made out of silver. The table was made out of fine made out Ælgish Elm wood, and so were the chairs surrounding it.

Even after everyone had sit down and silence settled in, there was tension in air. "I know all of you have questions." said the Deacon, finally speaking. "...and I'll try to explain to best of my abilities. The curse that has befallen Castow is not unique to Valion. Letters from other Kingdoms reveal that the curse of the Moon is present there as well." He turned his attention to Asher. "...And I assume that's also the case in the East, correct? I noticed you carry the symbol of the eastern Sun God. It'd be good to know what the situation around Antolia and Tarpatia is."

"But I digress... this curse has brought to light that those afflicted with the blood of beast and the blood of fallen are far more common than we originally though. Attacks by the werhobs have been common and paranoia is settling in. The Catanachs are exacting 'justice' with their own hands, killing innocents as well as beasts. The constabulary is overwhelmed, and so are the royal knights. The Oathkeeper chapter stationed must be somewhere in Lykos... All of this is a powder keg waiting to explode, and it's the duty of the church here in Valion to help." Castelluccio remained quiet for a moment, looking at everyone's faces. Analyzing their reactions.

After a minute of uncomfortable silence, the Deacon spoke again. "...And that's why you are all here. Some days ago, I received a letter from a vampyr who requested amnesty in exchange of his services." He eyed Valko for a split second, before shifting his attention to Raili. "At the time, I was ready to inform the new executioner about this... but then I realized that the only way to solve the problem besieging Castow is to understand them." Castelluccio then looked at Fulstan, and he seemed genuinely disgusted by the presence of the old scholar. But nonetheless, he realized that him being there could actually be useful to some extent. "...With the help of the Marquess of Veran, Lady Madennig Jezequel, I've been able to gather resources that will help us immensely." The father looked to everyone in the room once more, clasping his hands together. As if steeling himself for negative reactions.

"Using my powers as Deacon of the Church, I intent to ordain a group of... uh... What's the..." The deacon became flustered, clicking his fingers, trying to recall the word he wanted to use. He looked at the other members of the church in the room, as if asking for help. Sister Beauchamp looked a bit confused before speaking. "...Agents?" she suggested, relieving Castellucio who sighed and eased up a bit.

"Yes... agents..." The old priest, who had looked ready to fight the hunters a short while ago, now looked small, nervous and jittery. Revealing his weaker self for a moment. "...A group of agents who will investigate cases of werhob or undead activity. Your duty is to find evidence that Werhobs were involved in such cases, then find the culprits. As you can imagine, such responsibility will place you in front of a lot of danger, and I'll make sure to prepare you accordingly." He looked at Raili for a moment before looking back at the others "...But I can't stress enough that your main duty is to investigate. The hunting... belongs to the Hunters." He looked at Chibuike for a moment, who nodded in agreement. "...I still want one of my men with them, to make sure they are safe." she said while looking at Tremeur. The Deacon was not happy about this, having to accept Fulstan into this group already, but he had no much of a choice. "...Yes, your hunter will join them. Perhaps his abilities will be useful." Tremeur shrugged. "Hey, as long as I get to clean up the beasts all over the shop, I'm okay with it." he said, still smiling despite being surrounded by strange and dangerous individuals.

Castelluccio looked at the hunter with suspicion. The carefree types were always strange to him, and Tremeur's Catanach accent did not go unnoticed. But he was in no place to judge, as it was not his duty after all. "...Now I know I cannot expect people to work for free, especially during dire times like this. That is why you'll be rewarded for your services. You'll be given gold and silver accordingly, as well as anything you might desire and the Church can provide."

Castellucio then looked at the Vampyrs of the group, and eyed Cecilia for a moment, trying to not arouse any suspicion from the others. "...Those who are cursed by vile blood, will be granted amnesty and protection under the Clause of St. Nathaniel as long as you remain faithful to the church." He looked down for a moment, as if lost in his own thoughts. "...This is the same clause that protects vampyric nobles here in Castow... but I digress... The point is that you will be rewarded accordingly, and you'll also have access to one of the church's most valuable resources." Izold and Beauchamp looked at each other for a moment, knowing very well what the Deacon was about to say and questioning whether or not it was a wise choice. Castelluccio then proceeded to pull something from his pocket. A vial of bright red blood. "...This is Holy Blood."

Izold raised his voice for a moment. "Sanguine Sanctus... It is blood donated by the Sisterhood of Fire and Brotherhood of Light, then blessed by the Prince-Bishop or the Archbishop... and is used for various Sacraments. I... I am sorry, father, but... are you sure that's a wise choice?" asked the young priest, Castelluccion gave him a distasteful look before answering. "Yes, Brother Izold... The properties of the blood are known to satisfy those cursed by vile-blood. This is why I am offering it both as a reward and as resource. Do not question my judgment, Brother Izold."

"Yes... Father..." Izold said, while looking away. The Deacon turned his attention back to the group. "...I will answer your questions now, or hear your demands... for I imagine you might have plenty of them. I'll try to satisfy your needs...within reason, of course." He gently laId the vial on the table, clasping his hands together once more. "...All I ask of you is to please help us, for the Church needs volunteers."

 

[Humble1]

Fulstan was not sure whether to be frustrated or amused. Father Castelluccio honestly seemed worried about his presence. He's surrounded by Werehob, discussing the hunting of Werehob, but an old Chervan heretic is what sets him off? Can he be so blind as to miss the signals from the nun?

No. It makes sense. There are many threats to his life right now, but I'm a threat to his soul. Worse, the souls of his flock.

At the moment, Fulstan felt little but sympathy for the Father. Fulstan knew that he was a decent man, simply ... limited. Perhaps someday, when the sun was back in the sky, Fulstan could share a few stories about St. Nathaniel with the good Father. Nathaniel was become a surprisingly sharp theologian after receiving the Dark Gift.

"For what little it's worth, you have whatever this old scholar can give. I've no problem staying out of the way of your hunters, as I'm sure I'll be little use to you once blades are drawn. But I'm willing to chase the culprits down the pathways of prophecy."

 

[Emperor Sagan]

Hannalore took a seat with her traveling case sat on the floor, nestled between her legs and out of the way. It would never leave her sight. Even if someone asked to take it, like a coat, and place it somewhere safe out of the way. That simply wouldn't stand. Not one bit. Regardless, she eyed the others around the table levelly, and listened with care to Castelluccio's words as he managed to get them out. The Holy Blood earned a little twitch from her, somewhat startled to see such a rare item offered up front and directly. That seemed to demonstrate how desperate and dire the circumstances truly were. Or how generous the deacon was. That... was remarkably fortuitous for her. You'll be given gold and silver accordingly, as well as anything you might desire and the Church can provide. Very, very fortuitous.

The nun bowed her head after Fulstan spoke. "I, too, can offer only what is only in my ability to perform. I mend the damage of the body and soul much better than I am able to rend them, for I am no warrior." Her words were clipped, extremely fluent, but markedly foreign, almost as if she was a native speaker with the strange accent of a rare dialect.

"Might I ask, dear Father," she continued, her lips quirking somewhere between a grin and a full smile before being subdued, "I... I... have a wish to extend my hands in care for all of those who require it, for these are the lands of wounding, and there is much affliction from coast to steppe. When I was but a small girl, my dearest, beloved Saint spoke to me, and filled my heart with her wondrous warmth, allowing me to walk the path I do so with infinite wisdom and confidence in my sacred duties." Hannalore clasped her hands before her in a muted manner of contemplative prayer, but she knew she was only doing it because her hands were shaking. Perhaps some could see. Evidently, this nun was very passionate, or perhaps nervous?

She nearly bit her tongue to stop from smiling. Where had her resolve go? She was never one to lose control like this. For shame. This would require correction later. But for now....

"Dearest, holy Father... if it is within your purview... I must beg of you... grant me the writ of sister superior so that I may open an asylum-convent." She took in a short breath, almost like an involuntary gasp. "It is my sole sacred purpose in this life to help the poor, miserable, helpless, aching souls of this world, and to be able to bring them... all together... under my care...." Hannalore trailed off, unable to even speak.

 

[Breadman]

Yanitsa listened intently to what the deacon was saying. This was going to be an interesting relationship and very beneficial for her. What intrigued her wasn't the gold or silver. She would put that to good use by other means. No, the blood was what she wanted to know more about. The supplier in particular. But that would have to wait for now. She would need some leverage with them and just giving them pretty eyes wont work. The scholar already volunteered his services and the veiled woman asked for...an asylum? Well she'll need medicine and remedies and if the church wont provide, maybe someone else can.

"Otche..." She began "Your protection and amnesty are wonderful and I thank you for them, but I think that will only be the start of it." A gentle smile "In my youth, I was a merchant and educated in trade. After the curse was afflicted on me, I did not give up on that pursuit. In fact, I got better at it. Over the years I managed to establish a long list of contacts and have worked quite a network of various traders. Many of which I believe would be useful to you. Of course you would have me at your disposal as well. My store is located in the slums. Only reliable location I could secure given the state of this city." Now she needed to make sure her terms are clear. "The cold and silver you provide will be a welcome investment as it will help lubricate the right hands, but I will have to ask that the same protection offered to me is extended to my store and my associate and further that if any member of the church is assigned to it, that they do not touch him or any customer unless either of us deem it necessary." Her eyes shifted to the hunters "I know how zealous some of this church's servants can get."

"Finally what I will ask of you may seem odd, but I believe there is something in it for both parties. The rumors of a solution to the vampyr hunger being developed here in Castow. I came here because I want to find it or at the very least dispel the rumor. For that I request any information your other agents and scholars may gather to be brought to me. I hope you realize what a discovery like that could mean."

 

[Infab]

Octavia looked about at the others, as the Deacon explained things as well as the rewards they would all be getting. The gold and silver was nice. Standard compensation for a job done. Coming from a yeoman's family, that was typical.

The others then started to request larger things, obviously. The nun with half her face covered requested a writ and an entire asylum. The fem vampyr was playing the business route. Octavia's request was far more simple. "I just want my memories back, so I can leave this place and go home to my family." she said simply. "There's nothing else I would ask of the church."

 

[K0mori]

There was a singular knock on the elm wood table, and then another: the sound of Valko's thumb rising and falling rhythmically, every few seconds, as his right hand rested on the table. His other hand was balled into a fist, arm propped between his jaw and his knee, raised high as his leg was crossed over on the other in a fashion that was far more relaxed than the situation called for. In fact, in such a venerable setting, it would be disrespectful even among familiars.

He had waited a while while others gave their demands, but mulled over what, if anything, he would request beyond the amnesty and payment they had already agreed to provide all the while. It wasn't for lack of imagination; rather, it was because he knew that he could get most anything he wanted on his own terms with no help from the church. That is, except for good company, although he had found in his travels that bad company could be just as enjoyable. Having not said anything in a long while this evening, he had successfully become like a shadow in the corner, like an inert object lacking importance. But now, he noticed that a few were looking in his direction in curiosity, as his introduction was long overdue.

He lifted his head and casually flicked the hood off of his head, revealing his vampyric affliction. His sharp and attentive eyes, like those of a viper ready to lunge, steadily scanned the faces of the the room, right to left, meeting each person's judgement with his own. "No one asked, but my name is Valko Văduva. I know the Deacon recognized me from my letter. You have nothing I want that you haven't already offered, except maybe a woman who isn't a prostitute." His mouth curled into a grin entirely divorced from the rest of his face. "All joking aside... the blood, sir. I haven't fed today."

 

[FloweryMuffin]

Cecilia listened quietly as the Deacon explained what their jobs would entail, and what they would receive for their services. Throughout, her eyes couldn't help but drift about the great room and the silver weapons adorning the walls, which unnerved her, seeing that she was not unfamiliar with the metal's less than pleasant properties. Her posture was stiff and her hands were folded in her lap as she tried to maintain a calm expression; she felt incredibly out of place, because even the chair she was sitting on was probably worth more than everything she owned, which wasn't that much to begin with. And her clothes had seen better days, nights as of late.

Her gaze drifted back to the man the moment he was done and was listening to the other volunteers' various requests. She eyed the vial of blood for a bit, unsure what to make of it, then took to listening to the others. It was surprising, that on top of everything that they were being provided, they would still be making demands. She didn't understand why exactly the foreign nun needed an entire asylum to care for the sick and wounded, and maybe she was better off not knowing. Aside from a slightly raised eyebrow, she didn't react. How absurd, though. She continued to listen absently to what others desired, her eyes closed, thinking about what she might want -aside from sleep. The more she thought about it, the less she was able to focus, the picture of her resting her head on the suddenly very comfortable looking table and closing her eyes for a bit sounded very appealing right then.

While she attempted to get rid of the intrusive thoughts, shaking her head, she could hear someone making an introduction somewhere in the background. She slowly opened her eyes again and there was an unfamiliar face at the table with them, a vampyr -Valko, he'd said?- who seemed at ease watching everybody else. Cecilia merely nodded in acknowledgement at the strange introduction, still trying to wash away the sudden wave of exhaustion.

Remembering what it was she wanted to say, she schooled her face into a more determined expression. She spoke only after silence had settled in once again, "I understand that this job is going to be dangerous and I will aid you to the best of my capabilities…" her words came out slightly slurred "but I wish to be spared from.. having to kill anyone for any reason." God knows I already have and I don't know.