The College

The rune dangled upside down in the vastness of the mind. Suspended somehow. The hunter opened their eyes to the soft blue glow of a lantern. Small guides basked in it’s warmth amidst the coldness of the night. The hunter was unsure of where they were. Memories felt fleeting as they wondered if they were in a dream...or nightmare. Shadows begin to dance in the hunters memory, reminding them of purpose and dreams before. Ah, yes. Yarnham and it’s shadows lay behind them. All vanquished, all freed from the night.

The hunter began to walk forward past the veil of the lantern. The messengers mourned as they went, as they always do. When the light faded the night became more clear. The hunter saw it. The college looming in the pale sky. They tried to remember purpose, but as the hunter pondered a great screeching gurgle came from behind them. With just enough time to spare, the hunter leapt to the side as the sharp appendages of this malformed thing cut through the air. Winged, and looking in every avenue of direction, the grotesque monstrosity turned to face the hunter. The hunter was poised, excitement filling their soul. The creature opened it’s buglike phalanges and screamed again as it ran towards the hunter. Just before it could lay it’s heinous, ripping, claws around the hunter a loud blast emitted from the hunters blunderbuss, knocking the pathetic being to the ground. In this instance the hunter dug their blade deep into the head of eyes, ripping and tearing as the blade sunk deeper into the sorrowful bug. The malformed beasts head split in two as it collapsed at the hunter’s feet. Gurgling for a few moments before laying silent and still.

The hunter left the slaughtered thing and made their way closer to the college. On the side of the building a wooden door was slightly ajar. The hunter pushed and the door begrudgingly creaked open as if to warn the hunter; something ancient is here, and you should not be.

The room was dark, save for the few streams of moonlight cascading through the windows. It was obvious this place had been abandoned, but maybe not so long ago. Tall glass jars rested on the floors and shelves of the college. Books lay littered about in disarray. Perhaps the scholars of Byrgernwerth left in a hurry. As the jars glinted in the moonlight, the hunter noticed something most peculiar. The hunter peered closer into one of the jars. Eyes. The jars were full of them. All sizes, staring endlessly in every direction. The hunter thought back to the old adage. Before the hunter could think much longer however; the hunter heard a step behind them, followed closely by the whistling of a familiar tool. The hunter instinctively leapt to the left and rolled. Yurie, the last scholar, showed no emotion on the half of her face that the hunter could see. She was in full choir garb and maybe the last of her kind. The hunter was quick on their feet, sawblade at the ready. Yurie wretched backwards as tentacles protruded from her arm. The hunter quickly stepped to the side and fired a shot. Yurie stumbled, but only briefly before charging back. The cane whistled through the air once more, but this time the hunter was not so fast and the cane found its mark. The whip slammed the hunter across the gut. They stumbled back, and the hunter fell through the far side door of the building. Yurie lept after them spraying Rosmarus as she came. The hunter knelt on one knee clutching their wound. As the Rosmarus spray came, the hunter fired another shot, clipping Yurie. She stumbled briefly once more and tried to regain her composure, but not before the hunter had closed the gap. Slashing twice, the hunter hit her with a righteous fury. Yurie unleashed her augur once more, but the hunter was ready. Firing once again, Yurie collapsed to her knees and the hunter dove the blade deep. The hunter stared into the blank slate obscuring Yurie’s eyes. Had it been missing, perhaps the hunter would have felt something similar to pity, or sorrow. Alas, such fleeting thoughts were neither held onto or fully grasped. The hunter put their pistol to Yurie’s temple and fired.

A surge of strength filled the hunter. They were close now. Creatures were stirring in the moonlight, attracted by the commotion, but the hunter hunter ignored this. They were not the goal. The hunter reentered the College of Byrgenwerth and ascended the spiraling stairs. An eerie silence hung in the air. Books that would never be read again lined the walls. A closed door awaited the hunter at the top of the steps. A quick try was all it took to realize it was locked. As the hunter searched a feeling began to lurk in the dark corners of their mind. This place, this place was where it all started. Things were different here. A ladder led up to the college lofts, and the hunter climbed. The eyes seemed to all be staring at the hunter now, as if worried or excited. The hunter shook their head. Upon reaching the top of the ladder, the hunter found the key resting on a shelf, waiting for them.

The doors achingly opened with a long moan. The last feeble attempt to stop the hunter. Master Willem rocked gently in his chair overlooking the lake. The adage rang in the hunters ears once again. Like a nightmare recurring, the hunter remembered Willem and why he was there.

“Fear the old blood, by the gods fear it Laurence.”

At first, Willem did not seem to notice the hunter, or simply did not care. He was garbed in full church attire. Adorned in gratuitous whites and blues. He too had clouded his vision for what he desired to see did not require eyes. He rocked to and fro seemingly somewhere else beyond this place. The moon was low, dancing across the water. Willem moaned softly, raised his staff and pointed out vaguely over the lake before falling silent once more. Rocking with the ripples of the lake. The hunter walked forward to the edge of the precipice. Something stirred deep within the hunter, resonating with the depths of the lake. It beckoned the hunter to take a step to which they obliged.

Nothingness stretched out before the hunter in every direction, save for something in the distance. The hunter walked towards this object and it became clearer with each step. Rom, The Vacuous Spider stared back, her multiple eyes reflecting the cosmos. The hunter approached closer. Was it fear behind her lifeless eyes? This vile behemoth, fat and crawling. Nothing so great about this one, the hunter thought. Finally the hunter had found it, their prey.