#ghastlybeast

[thelonelyfirekeeper]

The Daily Nightmare

Starter for @ghastlybeast 

Hanging above the haunted phantom city was a dark red moon. This malformed collection of buildings held no true value to the beasts that wandered aimlessly cursed into a state of mindless torment. The Hunters Nightmare was not sanctuary to those who entered it with a conscious state of mind. Instead it threatened to destroy even the most diligent hunters composure. The fog that hung low in the streets captured the moon’s glow, leaving a silhouette of a lone woman stand out among the trash.  Xhella was not lost, nay she was right where she wanted to be. She had walked from a lantern into the depths of the Nightmare once again hoping to find hunters of sensible mind to glean information and to sell her wares too. The woman may have long since passed from the realm of the living but here within the nightmare it was no different than a day in the true city that she left. Her head held high she picked up her skirts and confidently walked through the fog - her hand trailing gently on the stone wall beside her. 

The woman was blind not not incompetent. She did not know how to fight, but she would not back down if a beast approached her. She had died a thousand deaths a the hands of random monsters and insane hunters, but she persisted. This was her afterlife, and her spirit would not be broken by such trivial matters.

Nay, Xhella walked with the swagger of a woman that was determined.

Determined to find her brother.

Determine to help those who wanted to protect Yharnam.

(For added effect here is a song that helps the mood: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wyOtXjch0Gs -humanity chan)

[mutedblood]

ghastlybeast | Chalice Dungeon

@ghastlybeast continued from here!

Adrian seemed to be dead on his feet as of late. He wore his mask up high, green eyes dull in the darkness, but there was blood underneath the mask that was not there before he wandered off the path, only to return seemingly months later. He wasn't the same hunter he once was. The bloodlust was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

This was the first encounter he'd had the chance to indulge in with Mishka, and he walked with his cane loosely held in hand, ever quiet as usual. He did, however, seem to perk up at the strange sounds further along. His shoulders slouched and he heaved a sigh, tightening his grip on his weapon as he forced himself to stand a little straighter.

For a moment, his eyes seemed much brighter, and he wrapped his left hand around his worn pistol when the two canines set their sights on the pair. The Keeper was further behind her hunting dogs but would make her way there in due time. Adrian shrugged at Mishka, lately, he hadn't even been writing his notes. He seemed different, more capable, yet less aware.

The first dog lunged at the mute hunter, long tongue hanging from its mouth as its companion jumped towards Mishka, its thin body still able to pack a punch. Adrian fired his weapon, hitting the dog right in the center of its dark chest. It paused just a hair, shaking itself out before Adrian slammed the cane down into its neck, watching it thrash before he yanked it out and hopped back, blood dripping onto the cobblestone floor.

[evanescent-red-light]

@ghastlybeast

“You do realise you have to actually parent, right?” The child squirmed in her claws as she struggled to settle her on her back. The arachnid beast shot Mishka a glare.

“When I said keep an eye on her, I didn’t mean to just stand there and watch as she was about to walk off the edge of the cliff.”

[faeshiftersmore-archive]

Bloody Summoning.

Closed starter for @ghastlybeast

Some people made better Deals then others, some should never have made one in the first place. A faint grimace was on the Fae's face, almost a look of vaguely annoyed resignation as she stood in the basement of yet another Human whose life long dream was to be a demon summoner. If it wasn't for his books that he had offered up in return for a “real” summoning spell, Ms. Gold would never have been there in the first place. Luckily for her, not so much for him, they were written in a language she could understand but was beyond his knowledge.

The ritual she had given him would work, would indeed summon something but without the accompanying safety measures which the human had of course said he did not need so did not have to pay for... No control, no safety, likely a rather bloody death. Still it was not the Fae's fault that the ultimate Price the Human would end up paying was their life, unless something odd happened of course.

Seeing the candles flickering in the “magic circle” the Human had insisted on, a faint almost sinister grin came to her face as she called out. “The thing that comes, that you summoned? It is likely going to gut you boy, and then lucky I... I get all your books. Not just the ones you offered. Should have asked how to keep yourself safe fool.” Hearing her the man looked over with a panicked look. “Shut up! What...what do I do!?”

As the portal opened in the middle of the basement, half in the circle, half out, candles continuing to flicker as the door to the basement slammed shut she let out a soft laugh. “You pray that what ever comes though is in a good mood and willing to spare you. You have nothing more I want.” As she spoke for a moment her eyes and ears betrayed what she truly was before they returned to normal and she hopped up onto a table swinging her legs back and forth humming to herself with a little giggle as she waited to see what would come through the portal. Summoning spells after all were not always the most exact of things.  

[cursedandcarried-blog]

100 words: whatever they consider the scent of Home

Home had once been the scent of candle smoke, medical alcohol, sweet moon-touched soil and the faintest whiff of hot metal. Now they found it in sea salt, rotting wood and pine needles. And further on, sandlewood, incense, warm fur and feathers.

They had often asked themselves, where else could they go? Who would have a wretched pair like them, rejected by the only gods they'd ever known. But, perhaps they did not need the gods after all, gods whose sympathies were erratic, who did not have kind, calloused hands and gentle words and seemingly infinite patience for their anxieties.

[old-sword-hunter-blog]

( @ghastlybeast​ continued from this ask)

There was no sense hunting during a storm. Henriett swiped her hand over the top of her hat once more, knocking water to the steadily growing pool at her feet. Outside the city was so black its existence existed by faith alone. Rain was not uncommon for Yarnham, so near to water as it was, but the storms – the true storms – left even the hardiest Yharnamite indoors. Any beasts were certain to have already gone to ground, and the calamitous triad of wind, rain and darkness disguised well the trails. She would not have been here, either, if not for being caught by surprise, and then the chapel being closest. She had no obligation to patrol whilst most were safely inside. ...Most. Between rumbles of thunder was the rare ring of a bedlamite, oblivious in their rambles and rambling. Many would meet their end in a flooded aqueduct, often for lost footing above, some dying at the climax of a high plunge but far more -- too many more -- instead crippled, and drowned. It wasn't her business, but she reached out to those she could. Lightning burst from outside, briefly illuminating the little chapel. When she blinked the whiteness away there was a figure. Some thing not quite human, shaking like a wolf in the tiny sanctuary. She grit her teeth as their stares met. A thrill pounded in her blood. Henriett dropped her hat to the floor, and in the same motion drew her sword. Any hope of surprising the trespasser was long forfeit. "Away with you, beast; if you've any sense." The blade's tip was leveled with his furred throat, from a gulf of several feet. If even the most base of animal cunning rattled in that skull, her intent would be understood. "I would not have blood spilled on these sacred grounds."

[iudexes-blog]

@ghastlybeast

He wasn’t prepared for the solid blow as the fist slammed into him, knocking him several feet away and flat on his back. Luckily Mishka was … some sort of undead thing and nothing was actually too damaged. The bitter taste of ash filled his mouth, a poor and displeasing substitute for the blood he craved, and was summarily spat out. Anticipating another blow Mishka was quick to get up, Manikin Claws – yet another poor and displeasing substitute to his own Beast Claw – at the ready. “What the fuck are you doing, asshole? Defending the sad and pathetic?”

A brief gesture at the cowering woman clothed in white, who had only asked to be touched. Mishka had planned on doing much more than just touching her, points of his weapons ready to pierce tender flesh.

                THE look he gives the unkindled is flat and cold, a grave-still glare perfected over the span of an age. going to waste somewhat, invisible under the helmet, but the sentiment is razor-sharp. the iudex flexes his fingers, feels old knuckles crack under metal. no real damage to either of them. but oh, by the still-burning flame, it was satisfying.

                "SELFISHNESS gets punished in turn. by the gods, or their agents, or by me." the iudex does not make any further move to reprimand mishka--merely gestures rough at the woman in white, pale and trembling. "put those little claws away. and try show some compassion."

[bloodtingedhunter-blog]

@ghastlybeast

“Has the notion of a plan ever crossed your mind? Or are you so content on your... bestial desires to carry on like a crazed lunatic?”