Anderson Quest: Killing Vampires and Werewolves and Leprechauns (Hellsing/Bloodborne)
- Thread starter Tricia
- Start date
Rareitor
Aspiring K0mput0rmayun
... this makes so much sense it is scarySee, all that comes to mind when you say that is Vanilla Ice.
Also: [POSING]
- Location
- The Shadowlands
[X] Look around first
Why not? I mean, it is not like it is bad for us to be rude.
We also have to deal with Martyr Logarius, so that will take us awhile.
- Location
- Chicago
[X] Go straight to the lit door.
Something occurred to me.
The Cainhurst royalty became Vilebloods after receiving forbidden blood from a Byrgenworth traitor. This traitor's name and identity is a complete mystery, almost as if he was expunged from all history books.
Castle Cainhurst happens to have a button/lever elevator, a third floor accessible only through a hard-to reach sliding bookcase ladder, a throne room you have to hop across roofs to reach, and way too many carved statues...
It's Johnson. Johnson's the Byrgenwerth defector. Not only bloody stupid with architecture, but stupid with blood as well...
Something occurred to me.
The Cainhurst royalty became Vilebloods after receiving forbidden blood from a Byrgenworth traitor. This traitor's name and identity is a complete mystery, almost as if he was expunged from all history books.
Castle Cainhurst happens to have a button/lever elevator, a third floor accessible only through a hard-to reach sliding bookcase ladder, a throne room you have to hop across roofs to reach, and way too many carved statues...
It's Johnson. Johnson's the Byrgenwerth defector. Not only bloody stupid with architecture, but stupid with blood as well...
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ChildishChimera
A umbran summon
- Location
- New York
I thought that was cause Logarius's crew destroyed the normal route so we had to take the long way?
LostDeviljho
Flame Dragon Princess
- Location
- The glorious Pacific Northwest
- Pronouns
- Any
[X] Go straight to the lit door.
Forbidden Castle Cainhurst
Meandering about is a lot more fun when you're not freezing your tits off. You make a beeline towards the lit door, pausing only to wrap additional bits of clothing around your extremities.
Oh, hey, it's the scarf Heinkel knitted for you for Christmas that one year. The little Walther PPs on it are adorable.
You're drawn from your nostalgia by the crunching of snow all around. Bloodlickers, leaner than their brethren in the Nightmare, pull themselves out of the great depression in the middle of the clearing and scuttle into view from behind the arrayed statues. You put your accouterments back in the sleeves, vowing to actually organize the things one of these days, and leap into the fray.
They're meaner than the ones you're used to, which makes sense considering they don't have an infinite blood river to gorge on. Still, you carve through them without too much effort, watching the snow crackle beneath the warm blood in their bellies.
Where did they even find fresh blood in this hellhole? Have they been eating each other? It's either that or the Queen has a blood cellar filled with aged vintages that these fat fucks have been partaking of. The trick is using chestnut casks.
With only a modicum of fresh stains on your coat, you finish the trek to the doors, which follow the trend of everything else in this place by opening on their own. The toasty, torchlit entryway opens into an expansive foyer. A tasteful red-and-orange carpet runs from the center to the top of the stairs, which are flanked by a pair of golden statues similar to the ones outside. The haphazard assortment of candles strewn about are the only nod to the castle's age; the marble tile floor is spotless and even the chandelier above looks as good as new.
Definitely not what you'd expect after a genocidal purge. If Alfred's any indication, the Executioners don't seem the type to clean up after themselves.
You hear a reedy whine and look up to see a hunched man in a robe launching himself towards you. You barely stop yourself from kicking him through the ceiling, noticing the rag in his hand and the angle of his flight. Instead of landing on you, he comes down behind you and starts furiously scrubbing at the wet footprints you left behind.
Once that's done, he motions for you to lift your left boot and wipes it clean, then does the same for the other one. You think you hear an offended harrumph as he goes back to the corner you didn't realize he was sitting in.
With that done, you flip him a euro from the depths of your sleeves and make way towards the stairs. Three steps away from the base, a veiled woman materializes next to you and drives a knife into your chest.
And you'd thought so highly of their hospitality.
You grab the handle and watch as she struggles to pull it free. After a few seconds of straining, you stop resisting and watch her stumble back. You don't give her a chance to regain her dignity before you cut her head off and she vanishes. The cleaner grumbles his way to your feet and cleans up the few drops of your blood she managed to draw.
You give him another euro for the trouble.
Looking around, you see more of the women milling about at the edge of visibility. Looks like a textbook case of Stabbing Ghosts, named both for their primary activity and most efficient method of disposal. A couple more accost you as you ascend the staircase, though they also suffer from the traditional Stabbing Ghost weakness of being terrible at knife fighting.
Turns out most people who die and become ghosts didn't invest in lessons.
You take a left at the top and find yourself in a dining room crammed with statues, just piled up willy-nilly. You're a patron of the arts, but this is entirely too many statues. Say what you will about the Healing Church and their love of stonemasonry, at least they knew how to arrange them. This place is probably on an isolated peak because they mined the rest of the mountain to make their eighty fuckbillion statues. The least Annalise could have done is make them the creepy type that move when you're not looking.
You take out your annoyance on the ghost ambush that awaits you in the center. You keep a lookout in case one of them has a hammer and chisel, but it looks like it's knives all the way down.
Yet more statues await you on the balcony outside. At least there's a lovely view from the battlements, the lake stretching into the distance.
You see a pair of gargoyles, standard-issue instead of the Extra Crispy from before, hiding among the statues. It would be a much more effective ruse if the things weren't swatting angrily at the black lumps trying to sit on their heads. You put them out of their misery and keep walking so as not to ponder the many, many questions you have.
A third gargoyle lunges out on your way to the adjacent tower and takes a swing at you. You knock it onto its back and let it flail for a bit before breaking a wing and booting it off the edge. It's quite a while before you hear the crunch.
The tower's entrance hall features another hunched man, this one with a rapier. He tries some fencing techniques on you, then learns in very abrupt fashion how the noble sport of fencing was not built to accommodate clinch knees.
Another brief trip outside and you find yourself in what looks like a library. What books you see are in solid shape and they even have those little rolling stairways to let you grab the ones higher up. Very fancy, even if there are a bunch of ghosts trying to spoil your perusal. You make sure to beat the snot out of them as quietly as possible.
[] Browse the shelves
[] Just keep going
[] Write in...
Oh, hey, it's the scarf Heinkel knitted for you for Christmas that one year. The little Walther PPs on it are adorable.
You're drawn from your nostalgia by the crunching of snow all around. Bloodlickers, leaner than their brethren in the Nightmare, pull themselves out of the great depression in the middle of the clearing and scuttle into view from behind the arrayed statues. You put your accouterments back in the sleeves, vowing to actually organize the things one of these days, and leap into the fray.
They're meaner than the ones you're used to, which makes sense considering they don't have an infinite blood river to gorge on. Still, you carve through them without too much effort, watching the snow crackle beneath the warm blood in their bellies.
Where did they even find fresh blood in this hellhole? Have they been eating each other? It's either that or the Queen has a blood cellar filled with aged vintages that these fat fucks have been partaking of. The trick is using chestnut casks.
With only a modicum of fresh stains on your coat, you finish the trek to the doors, which follow the trend of everything else in this place by opening on their own. The toasty, torchlit entryway opens into an expansive foyer. A tasteful red-and-orange carpet runs from the center to the top of the stairs, which are flanked by a pair of golden statues similar to the ones outside. The haphazard assortment of candles strewn about are the only nod to the castle's age; the marble tile floor is spotless and even the chandelier above looks as good as new.
Definitely not what you'd expect after a genocidal purge. If Alfred's any indication, the Executioners don't seem the type to clean up after themselves.
You hear a reedy whine and look up to see a hunched man in a robe launching himself towards you. You barely stop yourself from kicking him through the ceiling, noticing the rag in his hand and the angle of his flight. Instead of landing on you, he comes down behind you and starts furiously scrubbing at the wet footprints you left behind.
Once that's done, he motions for you to lift your left boot and wipes it clean, then does the same for the other one. You think you hear an offended harrumph as he goes back to the corner you didn't realize he was sitting in.
With that done, you flip him a euro from the depths of your sleeves and make way towards the stairs. Three steps away from the base, a veiled woman materializes next to you and drives a knife into your chest.
And you'd thought so highly of their hospitality.
You grab the handle and watch as she struggles to pull it free. After a few seconds of straining, you stop resisting and watch her stumble back. You don't give her a chance to regain her dignity before you cut her head off and she vanishes. The cleaner grumbles his way to your feet and cleans up the few drops of your blood she managed to draw.
You give him another euro for the trouble.
Looking around, you see more of the women milling about at the edge of visibility. Looks like a textbook case of Stabbing Ghosts, named both for their primary activity and most efficient method of disposal. A couple more accost you as you ascend the staircase, though they also suffer from the traditional Stabbing Ghost weakness of being terrible at knife fighting.
Turns out most people who die and become ghosts didn't invest in lessons.
You take a left at the top and find yourself in a dining room crammed with statues, just piled up willy-nilly. You're a patron of the arts, but this is entirely too many statues. Say what you will about the Healing Church and their love of stonemasonry, at least they knew how to arrange them. This place is probably on an isolated peak because they mined the rest of the mountain to make their eighty fuckbillion statues. The least Annalise could have done is make them the creepy type that move when you're not looking.
You take out your annoyance on the ghost ambush that awaits you in the center. You keep a lookout in case one of them has a hammer and chisel, but it looks like it's knives all the way down.
Yet more statues await you on the balcony outside. At least there's a lovely view from the battlements, the lake stretching into the distance.
You see a pair of gargoyles, standard-issue instead of the Extra Crispy from before, hiding among the statues. It would be a much more effective ruse if the things weren't swatting angrily at the black lumps trying to sit on their heads. You put them out of their misery and keep walking so as not to ponder the many, many questions you have.
A third gargoyle lunges out on your way to the adjacent tower and takes a swing at you. You knock it onto its back and let it flail for a bit before breaking a wing and booting it off the edge. It's quite a while before you hear the crunch.
The tower's entrance hall features another hunched man, this one with a rapier. He tries some fencing techniques on you, then learns in very abrupt fashion how the noble sport of fencing was not built to accommodate clinch knees.
Another brief trip outside and you find yourself in what looks like a library. What books you see are in solid shape and they even have those little rolling stairways to let you grab the ones higher up. Very fancy, even if there are a bunch of ghosts trying to spoil your perusal. You make sure to beat the snot out of them as quietly as possible.
[] Browse the shelves
[] Just keep going
[] Write in...
- Location
- Elsewhere
-[X] Browse the shelves
Why not? It's not like the books are going to kill us or anything.
Why not? It's not like the books are going to kill us or anything.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Steal all the books, Into the sleeves they go. Might prove useful later, or at least provide entertainment for the flock. Then keep going.
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- Location
- Elsewhere
Hyp3rB14d3
Gotta catch 'em all!
[x] Browse the shelves
[X] Steal all the books, Into the sleeves they go. Might prove useful later, or at least provide entertainment for the flock. Then keep going.
If it isn't, then its good for kindling.
Ars Poetica
ULTIMA RATIO NEMO OBLIGATUR
- Location
- The Kingdom of Fiore
- Pronouns
- He / Him / His
[X] Get schwifty.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
What does that mean?
Ars Poetica
ULTIMA RATIO NEMO OBLIGATUR
- Location
- The Kingdom of Fiore
- Pronouns
- He / Him / His
Rareitor
Aspiring K0mput0rmayun
There are book guns in fiction, this is a good plan