You consider pulling out your bayonets for a proper flourish, but this guy might not interpret that too favorably. Instead, you spread your hands wide.
"Father Alexander Anderson, Blade o' The LORD, Messenger of His Word, and Doom of the wretched beasties and Protestants! Yerself?"
He stares at you for a moment.
"The 'lord'?"
"LORD. All capitals."
"The lord, sorry, LORD of what?"
"The LORD. Singular."
"Of what?"
"Everythin'. He is the one true God, the Alpha and the Omega."
He puzzles this over for a moment, then lowers his hammer.
"Let's start over. My name is Alfred, of the Executioners. I am here in case the beasts of Old Yharnam break through while the Church's forces are occupied with the Hunt. Who are you and why are you here?"
Well, that was more informative but a lot less fun than you'd hoped. Whatever happened to two warriors listing off their increasingly-absurd titles in minutes-long monologues and not even bothering to explain them before turning each other's organs into modern art?
"Alexander Anderson, of the Catholic Church. I'm here because there's someone in Old Yharnam I need ta talk to."
"Well, I can't say I've ever heard of the Catholic you what."
He's had a steady expression of extreme bafflement ever since you first opened your mouth, but he's dug deep into his gawping reserves and is going all-out.
"You're planning to go to Old Yharnam?"
"Yep. Got someone ta speak with."
"There's nothing there but beasts. I mean, the Powder Kegs stayed behind, of course, but there's no possible way they've survived this long."
"Have ye checked?"
He doesn't even respond to this, exuding the quiet desperation of someone begging on his hands and knees for another topic of conversation.
"Sooo..." you offer, "...Executioners, huh? Ye execute people?"
"Just heretics, mostly."
"Really? I love executin' heretics, too." You rapidly point from yourself to him with both fingers. "We got that in common, right? Crushin' the blasphemers 'neath our heels, that's a proper bondin' activity right there."
This actually prompts a smile. One that, you note in the brief time it spends on his face, looks rather like yours.
"If only," he says. "Alas, the path to Cainhurst and the Vileblood Queen continue to elude me."
Those sound super gothic and aristocratic. Could it be...?
"I've not heard o' those."
"I'm not surprised; the information was not released to the public, after all. The Vilebloods were nobles who, through the use of corrupted blood brought to them by a Byrgenwerth traitor, became inhuman creatures who preyed on the blood of others. Our leader, Master Logarius, led the Executioners in an assault on their home of Cainhurst Castle and slaughtered them to the man. Alas, their Queen proved immortal, and Logarius sealed her away with himself as the key. I seek to find my way to Cainhurst and complete Master Logarius' mission."
He looks down at the conclusion of his somber tale. You grin gigantically.
"Immortal bigwigs who feed on blood and live in a fancy castle?"
"Yes...?"
"HA! I thought I'd never get ta kill another fuckin' vampire, and here I meet a fellow vampire hunter outta fuckin' nowhere!"
"Vam-what?"
You march over to him and clap a hand on his shoulder.
"Alfred, lad, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."
Alfred looks like he wants no part of this beautiful friendship, but gives a nervous nod anyway, possibly due to being within arms' reach of a giant European man with a violence fetish.
"Yes, well, I certainly admire your enthusiasm. I'm certain the Church Hunters would appreciate having someone like you."
You can almost hear the record scratch. Now that you're this close, you can see the resemblances between Alfred's garb and that of Lumnia.
[] Write in...
