Anderson Quest: Killing Vampires and Werewolves and Leprechauns (Hellsing/Bloodborne)

He must never know. What makes you think I don't already?
Well shit.
I hope you make Alucard do a running commentary throughout this. Not too much, but little things here and there.
[x] Awaken
-[x] First Floor Sickroom
-- But before that... "I'm going to wake up now. While I'm gone, think of a name you'd like. If you can't think of one, I'll give you one meself."
 
[x] Awaken
-[x] First Floor Sickroom
-- But before that... "I'm going to wake up now. While I'm gone, think of a name you'd like. If you can't think of one, I'll give you one meself."

And then Alucard was the Old Blood.
 
Omake: The Last Scholar
Also, here's the omake I promised.



She is not entirely certain whether she loves or hates the quiet nights.

When silence is fleeting she can lose herself in the noise and the fury and the crunch of chitin under her cane. She can look up and see the sunrise and be one day closer to death or whatever else comes after. On the quiet nights when the creatures are still or away she can only sit and eat and think and there's nothing worth thinking about that doesn't burn like hot quicksilver as it darts through her mind.

She had spoken to her professor on her first day and he had spoken of his professor who had spoken of his professor who had spoken of the Master's wisdom. Her uniform had been poorly-tailored and ill-fitted and tight and itchy but the idea of the Master carried her through the tedious lessons and the haze of self-importance that infected the minds of her peers.

Eyes eyes always eyes. Speaking of "seeing" as though the terribly flawed earth was blessedly an illusion and a grand beautiful design was visible to anyone if they could only see. They did not need the old blood. They could ascend on their own strength. They could shatter these fragile husks and be reborn into a sea of power and understanding the depths of which a thousand lifetimes could never scour.

And at their head would be the Master smiling and wise and kind and leading them into a dawn with no twilight.

During her graduation she and the six she had risen with had been taken to the balcony which had been forbidden throughout the years prior and she saw the Master there. His skin was white and bloodless and she could see the pockmarked bones beneath it and he looked like such a fragile thing. Like something whose pieces had been replaced one by one until you are not sure whether it is still the same thing. The professors had beamed and bloviated as he sat and drooled and turned his head but never at a voice.

Underneath his voluminous robes he shivered and she hesitated to even look at him for fear that he would crumble to nothing before her eyes.

She does not know how many years it has been or when the things with the eyes first appeared. Walking mockeries. She hears the writhing and the hissing from the great nest the woods have become and sometimes she hears screaming and she remembers when one of them tried to burrow into her flesh and she could hear its voice shrieking profound nothings in her mind in the moments before she ripped its head clean from its body.

The man from Yharnam came once and told her of the Healing Church and the Choir and the thing with many arms and no face that loomed ubiquitously such that all who walked the streets did so in its shadow. He had spoken of their communion with the one left behind and the power of the old blood and she had crushed his larynx and looked into his eyes as he writhed like a broken thing in her grip and she had waited for the old blood to save him.

He had tried so hard to scream.

She looks out and the moon is still up and massive and so close she wonders if she could jump from the balcony onto it and see the cosmos if only for a moment. Outside the things chitter and scurry and look with their many eyes and yet see nothing. She looks over the carcass of the school and she thinks of the gods and she wonders if they see that it is good.
 
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Also, here's the omake I promised.



She's not entirely certain whether she loves or hates the quiet nights.

When silence is fleeting she can lose herself in the noise and the fury and the crunch of chitin under her cane. She can look up and see the sunrise and be one day closer to death or whatever else comes after. On the quiet nights when the creatures are still or away she can only sit and eat and think and there's nothing worth thinking about that doesn't burn like hot quicksilver as it darts through her mind.

She had spoken to her professor on her first day and he had spoken of his professor who had spoken of his professor who had spoken of the Master's wisdom. Her uniform had been poorly-tailored and ill-fitted and tight and itchy but the idea of the Master carried her through the tedious lessons and the haze of self-importance that infected the minds of her peers.

Eyes eyes always eyes. Speaking of "seeing" as though the terribly flawed earth was blessedly an illusion and a grand beautiful design was visible to anyone if they could only see. They did not need the old blood. They could ascend on their own strength. They could shatter these fragile husks and be reborn into a sea of power and understanding the depths of which a thousand lifetimes could never scour.

And at their head would be the Master smiling and wise and kind and leading them into a dawn with no twilight.

During her graduation she and the six she had risen with had been taken to the balcony which had been forbidden throughout the years prior and she saw the Master there. His skin was white and bloodless and she could see the pockmarked bones beneath it and he looked like such a fragile thing. Like something whose pieces had been replaced one by one until you are not sure whether it is still the same thing. The professors had beamed and bloviated as he sat and drooled and turned his head but never at a voice.

Underneath his voluminous robes he shivered and she hesitated to even look at him for fear that he would crumble to nothing before her eyes.

She does not know how many years it has been or when the things with the eyes first appeared. Walking mockeries. She hears the writhing and the hissing from the great nest the woods have become and sometimes she hears screaming and she remembers when one of them tried to burrow into her flesh and she could hear its voice shrieking profound nothings in her mind in the moments before she ripped its head clean from its body.

The man from Yharnam came once and told her of the Healing Church and the Choir and the thing with many arms and no face that loomed ubiquitously such that all who walked the streets did so in its shadow. He had spoken of their communion with the one left behind and the power of the old blood and she had crushed his larynx and looked into his eyes as he writhed like a broken thing in her grip and she had waited for the old blood to save him.

He had tried so hard to scream.

She looks out and the moon is still up and massive and so close she wonders if she could jump from the balcony onto it and see the cosmos if only for a moment. Outside the things chitter and scurry and look with their many eyes and yet see nothing. She looks over the carcass of the school and she thinks of the gods and she wonders if they see that it is good.
That's pretty good, I didn't quite feel the atmosphere you were going for though
 
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So Yurie is in this quest.....With her Cane, Tentacle Arm, and Macross Missile Massacre Star Edition. Oh this will be fun when we meet her.

But can we actually 'befriend' Yurie in this quest? That would be pretty neat if it did.

I forgot, what was this of/for?
The QM's late update schedule due to a broken laptop.
 
[x] Awaken
-[x] First Floor Sickroom
-- But before that... "I'm going to wake up now. While I'm gone, think of a name you'd like. If you can't think of one, I'll give you one meself."
 
[x] Awaken
-[x] First Floor Sickroom
-- But before that... "I'm going to wake up now. While I'm gone, think of a name you'd like. If you can't think of one, I'll give you one meself."
 
[x] Awaken
-[x] First Floor Sickroom
-- But before that... "I'm going to wake up now. While I'm gone, think of a name you'd like. If you can't think of one, I'll give you one meself."
 
Special Delivery
The Doll watches you patiently as you puzzle through her statement. Whether she's alive or not, she's been nothing but kind to you. She deserves an identity of her own. Everyone does.

"I'm going to wake up now. While I'm gone, think of a name ye'd like. If ye can't think of one, I'll give ye one meself."

"If that is what you wish, good Hunter."

You kneel before the occupied grave and once more find yourself in the endless black, the Lamps rising from the abyss like stunted trees. This time, three of them light your way and, as you approach, images of the sickroom, Gilbert's window, and the butcher block you made the bridge into come to life in your mind.

There's still some exploring to do in the city, but you've got a healthy collection of blood vials to drop off and it might be worth checking to see how your wards are holding up. Plus, Dr. Iosefka's a less ontologically-challenging conversation partner than your most recent one.

The smell of alcohol is thicker than when you first arrived. A quick glance towards the front door reveals an impressively thorough cleaning job. A casual observer would never believe that an old man had been mauled to death by a ravenous beast that was, itself, subsequently shanked and nutted to death that very same evening.

The general clutter has also been reduced; seems the Doctor took the opportunity to tidy up while she was downstairs. It finally looks almost like a safe place of healing.

Resolving to compliment her on her one-woman war on grime, you make your way up the stairs towards the thick-ass door separating her from the nightmares of Yharnam.

Should you have set up a secret knock? You probably should have set up a secret knock.

Lacking that method of identity verification, you simply rap politely on the door and call out for her.

"Doctor Iosefka? It's me, Father Anderson. Got those blood vials ye wanted. Hope ye don't mind a bit o' blood on the outsides."

Footsteps, hesitant at first, ring out from somewhere beyond the door before coming to rest nearby,

"Oh, hello again, Father. How did your journey go?"

You have to strain to hear her voice. Seems like she's keeping a bit of distance between her and the door. Probably for the best; staying safe in case you're actually some kind of beast wearing an Anderson suit.

"No offense, Doctor, but yer neighbours are fuckin' arseholes. Had me some strongly-worded disagreements with them before they'd part with their vials."

"I see. Did you happen to find any survivors among them? Or just madmen and beasts?"

"There were a few; none that were in any mood ta chat, though. 'Cept Gilbert. Nice chap. "

"Did you tell him about the clinic?"

"He wasn't interested."

"A shame. There is no safer place in Yharnam on such a night. If you do happen to find someone willing to listen, do be sure to tell them of it."

"If I find one, sure."

There's a pause. You clear your throat out of a sense of decorum. Section XIII may have made sure you were on a different continent during any and all formal meetings but you know manners, dammit. You just choose not to use them sometimes.

"D'ye want the blood vials, Doc?"

"Hm? Yes, yes. Leave them downstairs by the bookshelves and I will gather them once you leave."

"I could just hand them to ye, ye know."

"True, but one can't afford to be too careful on a night of the hunt. I don't mean to imply that you are not trustworthy, Father. I hope you understand."

It makes sense, sure. If it's what makes her comfortable.

[] Keep talking to Iosefka
-[] About...

[] Head out to Yharnam
-[] Plan of action

[] Teleport to specific location in Yharnam
-[] Plan of action

[] Write in...
 
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[X] Teleport to Cleric Beast Lantern
-[X] Explore the areas around it, maybe there are passages along the way
-[X] Keep a quick pace while navigating and loot everything
-[X] Let's see how useful the Blade is at killing these foul beasts, shall we?
 
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"Before I go, Doctor, would ye mind openin' the door a wee bit? Can't say we've been properly introduced if we don't even know what the other one looks like."

You hear her fiddle with the lock for a moment, hesitating, before finally opening the door and peering out from the crack. She's quite lovely, gray hair done up in a bun and tired-looking eyes widening at your size. You hold up your hands.

"Not gonna hurtcha, lass."

Still watching you, she opens it further, revealing her surprisingly-clean white coat and gloves. You can see the clutter of hastily-moved supplies behind her as she appraises you.

She bows in greeting and you do the same before reaching into your coat and producing a Bible and cross, which you offer to her. She accepts them with some confusion.

Well, she's changed her tune. Hello Fake Iosefka indeed.
 
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