You pull out a pair of bayonets, twirling them in your hands as you answer.
"Me? I'm thinkin' o' doin' myself some missionary work. Spreadin' the Good Word among the fine citizens o' Yharnam." You can't keep the grin off of your face; it's time for some good old-fashioned peacekeeping.
Wait, fuck that. Maxwell's off getting shat out by zombies. It's time for a good old-fashioned Crusade.
You continue spinning the bayonets and laughing as Gehrman watches bemusedly. Just as you're about to turn away so your coat flutters up all badass-like, though, you realize you're missing an important detail.
"So...how exactly do I get there?" you ask, sheepishly putting your bayonets away. Gehrman points towards the doorway you entered through with a grin.
"The graves by the Doll. Use the one with all the Messengers around it. The little ones."
"Much obliged."
You walk back through the doorway as Gehrman begins organizing the dresser, rearranging a few vials and bells. Outside the Workshop, several more Messengers (that's a way better name than vagina-men) have popped out of the ground. One group offers you a pair of archaic-looking firearms, while the rest hoist a series of brutal-looking melee weapons. You're actually rather impressed with the little guys' upper-body strength, especially when one of them demonstrates the axe's effectiveness by braining one of its mates with the flat of the blade.
You politely decline, popping out a pair of bayonets. "I appreciate the offer, wee lads, but I think I'm good for weapons." They nod in understanding, sinking into the steps. The one who got beaned takes a little longer to join the others and, as you watch it recompose itself, an idea strikes you.
"Hold on a sec." You walk over to the Messenger and pull a small cross from the endless recesses of your coat. Crouching down, you offer it to the strange little man, who takes it from you and looks to you for clarification. "If y'see someone who looks like they need a friend, give 'em this." It salutes you smartly before disappearing from sight.
The Doll is sitting demurely beside the steps when you reach her, humming softly to herself. At your approach, she rises once more and bows to you.
"Farewell, good hunter. May you find your worth in the waking world."
You know your worth. It's the rest of the world that's in the dark. You'll fix that soon enough.
The bottom-most grave is filled with Messengers, swaying with no real rhyme or reason. You lean down and tentatively reach your hand towards them. For a moment, nothing happens; you're about to ask the Doll for directions when the world falls out from under you.
You're surrounded by darkness, standing on nothing. In the near distance, a pale light sits slightly above the ground and, as you walk towards it, you see the skeletons of many more lanterns like it at the edge of its illumination.
He did say you'd know them when you see them.
As you kneel to examine the sole living light, an image forms in your mind of what looks like a primitive hospital, full of scattered implements and beds with the sorts of restraints you'd expect at a polar bear sanctuary. It's not terribly inviting, but it's not like you have too many options. You touch the light and the world fades away.
The smell hits you first, copper and formaldehyde and the faintest hint of alcohol struggling to keep the place sterile in the face of overwhelming adversity. The wooden floor creaks, both under you and under something stumbling about somewhere nearby. You rise to your feet, take a deep breath, and flourish your weapons of choice.
"Then you call on the name of your god, and I will call on the name of the LORD. The god who answers by fire-he is God."
"AMEN!"
[] Find your way to the exit
[] Explore the clinic
[] Write in...
Yeah, I know that giving the Messenger a cross only got one vote but it was too cute for me not to include.
As was said, the hospital is the place to be for securing medical supplies and treating people. We are blessed with regeneration abilities. Other innocents are less fortunate. Best to cleanse this place of any unholy occupants and secure it for more righteous purposes.
