Even though the world of dreams pulled in Bogart, the comfort that the rest provided him was brief. The feint glow of a still burning fire shone through the windows and into the night. The crunch of snow echoed around the cabin, not too dissimilar from an animal stalking it's prey. Eventually circling close enough to rouse the young hunter from his slumber. It had only been an hour or so since his eyes had finally come to a close, but circumstance was far from kind.

The sound of steps grew in intensity, two, maybe more, before disappearing into silence. Seconds of silent tension were broken by the staggering sound of something slamming full force into the door Bogart had wisely barricaded. The noise was astonishingly loud, as if whatever had wanted into the cabin had only tried to do so by throwing it's full weight into the doorway with no sense of self-preservation. Still, the door wedge held strong and buckled against the wood flooring.

Immediately after the failed entry attempt, an ungodly roar or perhaps scream, overshadowed everything else. To the untrained ear, it might sound like the final screams of a dead man or an animal, guttural and primal. But to a hunter it signified something far more sinister. A signal. Like the howl of a wolf alerting it's pack.

Suddenly, the smaller glass window that looked over the main room of the cabin shattered as a full body, gaunt and pale as the snow from which it came careened through it, sliding along the wooden floor before coming to it's feet, snarling at the hunter. Slowly and carefully, a second creature crawled through the now open point of entry, as if to get a better grasp of the situation it's prey found itself in.

With 12 hours until the break of dawn, Bogart was now face to face with two more of the nightmares that plagued this town.

[Ghoul Count: 2]

---

The shuffling outside the cabin was loud enough to make Bogart stir from his slumber, but wasn't enough to fully wake him. With groggy eyes, the hunter lifted his head from his makeshift pillow and cast his gaze around the room, scarcely aware of where he was or what he'd been doing. The following crash against the barricaded door was more than enough to put an end to that, forcing Bogie's eyes wide open and striking his heart with panic. He was alone in a cabin with no knowledge of what lay beyond the door, but there eerie loneliness was exaggerated by the howl of the creature outside.

Bogie wasn't the type of hunter that spent his days hunting for food or game, but only sought out and killed mythical creatures of lore. The howl, to him, was little more than a shout of frustration at the creature's inability to enter the cabin. The fact that it could be telling others of its kind where it was was barely an afterthought, but the concept that the noise could draw other unwanted attention did have a place somewhere in the young hunter's mind. For now, however, the immediate threat had to be dealt with first. Bogie began to creep as quietly as he could across the wooden floor to his hunter manual and weapon lying only a few feet away, this movement being interrupted by the sudden, inelegant entrance of the creature throwing itself through the window as a creative way of resolving its dilemma.

The creature had flung itself through the window with such force that it momentarily skid across the ground, granting Bogie enough time to get his hands on the equipment he'd been reaching for, but that did little to benefit him aside from comforting his spirit for the moment. The weapon he'd been given by his father was too loud if he were worried about other things being alerted, so he was now to face off against two pale creatures with a weapon that amounted to little more than a wooden club. He'd learned his lesson the first time though.

With the butt of the gun, Bogie struck the first creature across the jaw, displacing it with relative ease. This wouldn't be enough to kill the creature, but if it so happened that it attempted to get away, there was a good chance that it'd die of starvation down the line. The monster didn't react to the pain so much as it did to the sensation of touch it felt, throwing itself at Bogie and taking the hunter to the ground with its full weight. Bogie had managed to get the gun horizontal over his chest, providing assistance with keeping the monster from fully getting on top of him, but with the second creature having entered the window, there was no reprisal to be had.

The creature clawed aimlessly at Bogie while it was being held back, getting a few nails dug in deep against the hunter's side, but pushing as hard as he could and leaning to the side, Bogie was able to slide himself out from beneath it. Moving one hand down, he gripped the barrel of the weapon and swung for the fences, bringing it to impact the temple of the second creature that moved to tackle him. With a full-force swing rather than a bunt, the creature was thrown to the side by the force of the attack. There was just enough time for Bogie to raise himself to his feet before the creatures were able to get to their's.

This few seconds that Bogie had achieved was used to strap the weapon to his back and raise his fists, ready to take on both of the creatures in a hand-to-hand brawl. The creatures, now on their feet, once again moved to throw all their weight into the hunter and bring him back to the floor, but Bogie was much more skilled than to be taken down by the same move twice. Shuffling his feet lightly against the floor in typical boxer fashion, he scooted backwards away from the attempts, weaving in a couple jabs against both creatures as he backed off. These punches weren't meant to be powerful, but would soften his targets up for when he landed a solid blow.

Even whilst shallow, the momentum of the creatures and the blows to their heads helped them to once against clatter against the ground. The closest one, as it attempted to pull itself to its feet, was greeted with a swift side kick to the side of the head, dropping it against the ground and giving Bogie a moment to take on the first creature one-on-one. With the spare few seconds he'd granted himself, Bogie threw out a couple more jabs as the creature clawed at him from within arm's reached. His arms were gouged and scratched by its claws, but the jabs had landed cleanly, swinging the creature's head to the side and opening up an opportunity for the hunter to land a solid blow. Taking this opportunity without thought, Bogie threw a right straight towards the creature's temple, causing the creature to reel back from the force. This action proved the instability of the creature, causing it to stumble backwards and fall to the floor.

This trading of punches was only seconds long, allowing the creature he'd kicked enough time to get to its feet, but the number advantage was still no more. It was a tactic that Bogie had been aiming for, the lack of thought process in the creatures being the one thing he could take advantage of in order for it to work. The hunter would continue this process, constantly trading one foe for the other and putting in as much work against their skulls as he could before they fell again. By the time the fight was over, several minutes had passed, but their heads were so badly beaten that the two creatures could no longer put any strength in their limbs. When both of them were too slow to get up, Bogie moved in on them, stomping hard on their heads and caving them in for the final blow and securing a victory.

Bogart would come out of the fight with cuts and scrapes along his arms and up his sides, his knuckles would be sore from the repeated impact against humanoid skulls, but at the very least, he was alive. Rather than cleaning up the mess the brawl had created, the second appearance of these creatures was more information than he'd had before. There was something about them that rang familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. This feeling brought him to consult his hunter manual, quickly flipping through the pages with shaky hands, searching for a creature that resembled what he'd been fighting. They weren't vampires, or at least didn't seem like it.

The adrenaline coursing through Bogie's veins made it difficult for the young hunter to concentrate, but his curiosity on the subject drove him forward. It was only a few minutes since the conclusion of the fight when he found the entry that he'd been looking for. Ghouls.

Hunter Manual wrote:Ghouls are corpses of humans brought back from the dead through otherworldly means. They are the weakest members of a necromancer's army, but other members of the undead are capable of raising these low-level monsters to fight in their stead, most notably vampires. Ghouls are often misinterpreted as zombies due to their appearances and insatiable appetite for living flesh, but this is incorrect. Ghouls cannot starve to death, instead being sustained by the life force of the being that summoned them.

Weaknesses:
[list]
[*] Poor physical constitution
...

Ghouls are low-class summons, having very little they're truly weak to, but the ease at which they're dispatched makes it of little concern.

Bogie couldn't help but giggle to himself. The entry on ghouls held more than enough of a resemblance to what he'd been fighting that he was convinced he'd found the right monster, but it was more than that. These were creatures that spawned randomly, but were summoned; summoned by exactly what he'd come to Drum looking for - a vampire. If it were indeed a vampire that was raising these creatures from the dead, then the fight could get impossibly more difficult, but the idea that he'd finally be able to find a real monster was far too enticing to make him turn back now.

It was still dark out, but Bogie was rearing to go. The hunter grabbed the rest of his belongings, kicked the chair away from the door, and exited in a hurry, once again following the tracks of the creatures he'd just fought. There was no telling how far they'd lead him, but for now, they'd at least push him in the right direction.

---

Gear:

With Bogart's blood pumping, his ambition and eagerness to press forward blinded him to the reality of the situation. The monsters, ghouls, had come back to the home, despite the fact that whatever prey had once lived there was but a long memory, frozen into the wood and forgotten. Still, then what drew them to the cabin? Coincidence? Surely not. Before the cabin had even faded out of sight in the heavy night blizzard, a guttural bellowing echoed out into the wilderness. The hunter had kicked the hive, and now undead would come to swarm.

Cold, a pale and languid blue, the creatures crawled through the white curtain of torrential snow on all fours. Some were more decrepit, the kills that birthed them impossibly old, but others were fresh, their muscles and features still relatively human. Now with four more of the creatures circling Bogart in the storm, it was evident that whatever master controlled them was keenly aware of the hunter's presence, and sought to eliminate the nuisance without ever dirtying it's hands themselves.

[Ghoul Count: 4]

---

Bogart began to trudge through the snow under the dim light of the moon. There wasn't much light coming through the treetops, but it was enough for him to see where he was going and where he'd been. The clearing the cabin stood in helped the young hunter keep vision of it for longer than he normally would have, but that didn't help much when the howls of more ghouls flooded his years. Bogie's eyes darted around the tree trunks in search of the creature - or creatures - that had made the noise. From his peripheral vision he could see one or two pass behind some of the trees, quickly getting out of sight before another would catch his attention and cause his head to turn from the first. The hunter couldn't get an accurate count of the creatures yet, but from what he'd seen so far, he was outnumbered and surrounded. He was now being hunted.

Glancing over his shoulder, Bogie once again made eye contact with the cabin. He could just make it out beyond a bend in the path, but it was too far for him to reach it before the creatures would be on top of him. Even if he could make it, the cabin had already proven it wasn't up to the task of defending him. His only choice now was to keep moving forward after the footprints in the snow, steeling his nerves against a fight that was soon to come. However, before he could make another step, one of the creatures leaped from behind a tree, rushing Bogie where he stood in the snow.

Crossing his arms in front of him, he let the arm guard block the ghoul's head from hitting him. The snow had built up several inches over the course of the night, so kicking would be hard without clearing out some of it first. The guard would make due, at least for now, but it didn't stop the creature from gouging deep claw marks into the hunter's side while he was in close proximity. Reacting as quickly as he could, Bogie twisted his body with the momentum of the ghoul, pushing it off and causing it to crash to the ground next to him. Breaking his guard immediately, he followed up with a straight right towards the creature that followed the first, hitting it square in the face with a solid fist.

Almost as if it were in pain, the creature screeched from the strike, reeling back due to the force. The ghoul was in poor form having been revived from a rotting corpse; its face was caved in slightly from the punch, but the strike alone wouldn't be enough to put it down for good. The first creature had not only been unharmed when it was thrown off balance, but had managed to cause Bogie to further bleed from its claw marks. Having barely survived the last two ghouls, he was in poor shape to take on any more. He was running on close to empty already. Survival would force him into overdrive at this rate.

Two more ghouls stepped out from behind the trees, putting the total count at four for the time being. If push came to shove, Bogart could rely on the weapon he had, but he wasn't keen on the possibility of calling any more attention to himself than the howls of the ghouls already would. Instead, he stepped backwards after striking the ghoul with the injured face once more, putting some space between him and his aggressors.

"We're getting into dire straits here. Let's push the limit a little then." Bogie spoke to himself, trying to calm his nerves against the life-threatening situation he'd been put in. The hunter struck a fighting pose as the creatures inched towards them, waving his hand as if to goad them into attacking, but instead moving forward of his own volition.

Swinging his leg around the side, Bogie kicked up a cloud of snow into the faces of the creatures. Under the cover of his makeshift smokescreen, Bogie struck his arm forward towards the last seen location of a ghoul. The slower reactions of these creatures and the intelligence he was fighting with helped him made contact, but it was a glancing blow off the top of the creature's head. The missed attack put the creature in arm's reach, but Bogie managed to act almost instinctively to shove the creature away and put distance between them again without taking anymore damage.

At this current junction in his life, Bogart's fighting style was simplistic. He'd come to Drum seeking out a top class creature with little more than the knuckles on his hands to pull out a win. Rather than fighting the creature he'd come looking for, he was faced with a life or death situation at the hands of arguably the lowest class of monster, the polar opposite of what he'd been willing to face off against. Bogie was being shown first hand just how weak his punches actually were, but the young hunter wasn't willing to stand back and await death because of it. A hunter faces off against all manner of creature that hunts humans. His goal was to show that humanity wasn't weak simply because they lacked the usual claws and fangs of beasts. He'd crawl and drag his mangled corpse to survival if that's what he had to do, and the first test was here and now.

As he backed off the creature he'd just shoved away, he was grabbed from behind by another. The ghoul quickly sank its teeth into the meat of the hunter's shoulder, causing Bogie to grunt in pain as he struck out with a formless punch. With a closed fist he struck over the top of his left shoulder with his left arm, smacking the ghoul in the forehead with an attack that forced its jaws off of him, allowing him to twist out of its grip and regain some ground. The strike was weak, but Bogie had never been powerful to begin with; it was, however, astonishing that he'd been able to throw a punch at that angle. Especially now that he'd been able to recompose himself and take a fighting stance once again.

Bogart Weiss was bound to lose a battle if he were to fight all four of these ghouls straight on. He wasn't going to let them have such a fair fight though. Once again kicking up snow, he flung it towards two of the ghouls that stood close together, leaving the other two free to attack without being blinded. As these creatures moved in to claw and bite at Bogie, he strode forward in kind, weaving between their hands and landing a clean straight punch against the temple of one of the ghouls. Contorting his body and twisting rapidly, he struck out against the other one, slamming his fist into the creature's shoulder and causing it to twist away at its strength.

From the snow, a clawed hand reached out to grab Bogie; the hunter responding in kind by instinctively slapping it away and throwing another right cross towards this attacker's upper arm. The feedback he felt in his hand wasn't easily understandable, as the blow forced the creature's arm away, but this soft feeling of his target giving to the force of his punch coincided with a brittle snap of the ghoul's arm. Unfortunately, there was little time for Bogie to revel in the minor success as he ducked and weaved away from further clawing from the other ghouls. The hunter was managing to avoid most of their meager attacks, but every now and then a claw would find its way into his body and gouge out more of his flesh.

Bogie shuffled his feet backwards, keeping his center of balance on his toes for light movement. He swung his body around throwing punches towards the closest ghoul as they came forward, meeting its flesh with his own, suffering minor scratches to his forearms for the effort and the occasional tooth in his knuckles. If he didn't end this bout soon, he'd end up as a mangled lump of flesh even whilst fighting back successfully. Luckily, his movements hadn't all ended in vain. He was suffering many minor wounds across his body, but he'd managed to land decisive blows in the process. One ghoul was currently fighting with a broken arm, one of them still struggling with a concave face, and the other two were slowly being beaten to death. Yet, even if he appeared to be worse for wear in comparison to his opponent's, he'd been moving in a manner that would allow him to secure a win in the end.

Kicking up snow had not only blinded the ghouls he targeted in order for him to land punches in the immediate, but had also been a strategic maneuver. Kicking up snow and shuffling his feet while he moved had cleared some of the snow from their battle ground, an area several feet in diameter. He'd been having trouble lifting his legs with power behind them because of how much snow had built up, but moving the way he had had cleared up that problem - at least for the most part. As one of the ghouls threw itself forward to try and close its jaws around any part of Bogie it could, he was finally able to throw a side kick towards its head as it bent forward. The force of the kick wasn't powerful in its own right, but the decomposing nature of his enemy exaggerated it by a large degree. He could feel the top of his foot collide with the ghoul's cheek bone before altogether losing all manner of feedback as the ghoul's head was ripped from its neck in brutal fashion. The continuous strikes that Bogie had been throwing while clearing away the snow no doubt had a hand in how effective his kick had managed to be. His preparations had come to fruition, and he'd finally managed to drop the number of enemies by one. Only three ghouls left, all of which had been suffering just as much damage as he had.

With no remorse for its fallen brethren, all three of the remaining ghouls lunged forward at the hunter. Bogie's leg was still in mid-air after his kick and he was forced to go with its momentum, twisting his body and throwing himself to the side to avoid the ghouls. Rolling through the sparse snow, the hunter caught himself and lunged back, throwing a punch with his full weight behind it towards the nearest ghoul. The closest one just so happened to be the one with the concave face, whom ended up suffering another full-force strike to the same spot. The bone in the area had already been broken the first time, this second one allowing Bogie to sink his entire fist into the creature's skull, scrambling its brain with his fingers. He withdrew his hand, only to be met with the ungodly stench of the decomposing gray matter and the clawed fingers of the two remaining ghouls. Across the side of his neck and down his back they drew lines of red with the hunter's blood, but the adrenaline helped him power through the pain.

Bogart threw his arm backwards in a swiping fashion, shoving away the two remaining ghouls and giving himself momentary breathing room. Panting heavily, Bogie threw up his hands in tightly clenched fists and drove forward in spite of his stamina. Throwing a fist out towards one of the ghouls, the strike didn't hold true. As the ghoul bellowed out another ear-piercing howl, its open jaw scrapped across Bogie's punching arm and wounding him further. Reacting quickly, Bogart bent the arm and torqued his body forward, throwing a weak elbow into ghouls head. The strike cut the howl off short and sent the creature flailing towards the ground. Bogie twisted his body around to face the other ghoul just as it lunged forward with a bite, forcing Bogie to block it with his forearm rather than take the bite to his face. The pain was intense and not something that he could ignore with adrenaline.

With a loud, grunting screech, Bogie threw a side kick while in close proximity with his target. His shin laid itself across the creature's gut, forcing it to bend over at the waist and releasing Bogie's arm from its jaws. In the opening, Bogie threw out a downward punch, smashing the creature in the back of the head and slamming it into the ground with the full force of the strike. The motion along with the decomposition of the ghouls body broke its skull and splattered its brains over the ground. The young hunter had managed to take out three of the four ghouls, but in doing so had expended all of his stamina for the moment. He needed a breather, but the last ghoul wasn't going to give it to him.

The final remaining ghoul tackled Bogie as he panted, still holding his form from when he'd killed the third ghoul. He could only put enough strength in his arm to keep the ghoul from closing its jaws around any part of him, but was suffering at the hand of its claws while doing so. The two of them fell to the ground in a ball of blood and flesh, with Bogart swinging his weight around in ghoul-like fashion to put himself in a good position. They'd fallen together, but Bogie had managed to wrap his arm around the ghoul's throat while they tumbled on the ground. With the final reserves of his strength, the hunter simply squeezed - squeezed as hard as his weak and beaten body would let him. Arching his back he pulled on the ghoul, gripping its lower body with his legs, until he finally felt the satisfying pop of its neck.

Bogie released his grip and dropped completely onto the ground, taking the moment to rest from the long, arduous battle he'd just undergone. Without the strength to lift his arms and throw a kick, he'd had to rely on a basic submission hold for the last ghoul. Luckily, without any technical fighting ability, it couldn't fight back as he severed its spinal cord and ending its life. Bogie took in the few moments of calm to breathe heavily and catch his breath, the corpse of the final ghoul still resting on top of him. He'd done it. He'd survived. Humanity had survived. And he'd managed to do it without using the firearm his father had given him.

Unfortunately, this victory would come with a sour taste for the hunter. He'd survived, but he still had to confront that he wasn't strong enough to take on the final boss - if there was one. Whoever was conjuring these creatures from the afterlife would inevitably be stronger. There was no doubt in his mind that he wasn't strong enough to win in a straightforward fight, but as a hunter, he had to push forward anyway. For the sake of the people that had been killed so far and for the lives that he'd be able to save by doing so, he had to confront the summoner of the ghouls. There was no choice for him in this matter.

As soon as his breathing came more under control, Bogie pushed the ghoul's body off of him. Even though the creature didn't have much weight to it, the hunter's muscles ached at the movement. Bogart had cuts lining ever inch of his body, teeth marks on various limbs, and his muscles were all but willing to quit on him at any moment. Still, he forced himself to stand and look around the carnage that had unfolded.

The ground beneath him was a slushy mixture of mud and snow that had been formed with the back and forth footsteps of both him and the ghouls. Brain matter and blood were splattered for several meters, the blood having soaked into the snow and inking it red. Yet, even though the site of it all was hellish, the stench from the decomposing bodies was far worse. The putrid scent stung Bogie's nose, no longer something he could ignore. To get away from all of this, the hunter had to march forward, even in spite of his suffering. He'd rest while walking, if he had to. The footsteps of the creatures hadn't yet disappeared, so after a moment of searching for where these four had come from, Bogie began to follow them once more.

Tired and in pain, he was resolved to finish his quest.

---

Gear:

Seconds of well deserved rest turned to minutes as the young hunter Bogart caught his breath in the snow, covered in all manner of scrapes, cuts, bruises, and blood. Things seemed dire and he was exhausted beyond all reasonable doubt, but still he continued to press onward towards what would surely be his end to any rational human being, following the remnant prints of the beasts.

Yet as the storm intensified and Bogart's pace slowed down to a crawl in the frozen whiteout that surrounded him, he came to a sensation that hadn't come to him in awhile through the roaring of the blizzard. Silence. No roars or scraping of the undead plagued the airs around him, the stench and viscera all but gone. This optimistic revelation fueled the hunter, driving him ever forward towards the source of the abominations, even if the trail itself had long since faded under the ice.

However, such fervent desire was quick to burn itself out, and give way to the exhaustion and apathy that came with not only his profession, but the frigid environment itself; and just as Bogart found himself nearly frozen blind and empty, his feet scraped along a cold stone path underneath the now waist high snow.

His eyes were drawn upward from the ground as a gate gradually came into view through the white veil, chained shut and several meters higher than the already tall snow. Surely what lay beyond was the hunter's goal, but in his current condition and surroundings, leaping the gate would be impossible, and forcing it open with his current level of strength just as unlikely.

[Gate Durability: 7]
[Ghoul Count: 0]

---

Snow. White, fluffy snow. Cold, frigid snow. Deadly snow.

Bogart had been wandering the winter wonderland that is Drum for hours now and his mind couldn't think of anything else but the snow and the cold. He'd been able to warm up for a short while at the cabin, but that had quickly turned to shit and he was worse for wear than ever before. His body was lined with claw marks, bite marks, various scrapes and bruises, but as if to kick him while he were down, Drum had decided to pelt him with the worst snowstorm he'd ever seen. The blood - both his own and that of the ghouls he'd killed - were frozen into crimson icicles all over his body, this including the very cuts that bled themselves. If it could be counted as such, the only fortune he was receiving was that of the numbness that was taking over his body. The pain from the fights had turned into soreness from the hours of walking had turned into a thorough shiver had turned into total and complete numbness.

Any normal man would have been long dead by now even if he had managed to survive the ghouls. The cold should have taken Bogie's life already, but he was continuously being pushed forward by the thought of meeting the ghouls' maker. Tired, unable to feel his limbs, the world finally gave the hunter a stepping stone - quite literally. The snow now piled up to his waste, but the soft impact of his feet against the grass was still a sensation - albeit dull - that he could feel; this giving way to the feeling of hard stone. Stepping off the grass and onto the stone path lowered the snow from his waist to his thighs, a sensation in itself that was comforting, and for the first time in hours, Bogie looked up from the top of the snow to view the world around him.

Everything was painted with a coat of white as the snow continued to fall. Line of sight was limited through the dense snowstorm, but in the distance something stood out from the trees and endless snow that called for Bogart's attention. Unable to deny its call, the young man took another, heavy, step forward through the thigh-high snow, moving slowly towards what called his name. As he continued to move forward, the thing began to stand out more and more until he could finally identify it as a gate. A gate meant a house, which meant warmth, which meant he had to go. Whether or not the person that lived there would let him in was a different story, but the allure of something other than cold was far too powerful to keep him from interrupting a stranger's night. He pressed forward, right up until he came face-to-face with the gate.

A chain. Wrapped around the bars of the gate to keep it tightly shut, this chain was a deathsend in the endless snowstorm. If he didn't get through this gate, Bogie was confident he was sure to die. The young hunter let out a loud, shrill cry at the surplus of frustration the chain had just shoved into his heart, but the shout was dim and was quickly lost to the snow-padded wasteland. Eyeing the gate and looking around, Bogie weighed his options in his mind.

The first option was to continue moving. He could forget the gate, forget the potential warmth, and continue walking the direction he had been heading originally. However, this was an impossible feat. The concept of getting out of the snow was far too powerful for him to just simply forget. His feet wouldn't drag him through the snow any further if it weren't strictly to get out of it. This wasn't even an option, at this point.

The second option was the climb the fence or search for another opening, but Bogie knew he couldn't do it. If he'd been simply suffering the countless injuries, he might've been able to handle it, but the cold had impaired his movements. He couldn't put the same strength into his arms as he had before and he couldn't trudge through the snow for something that might not even exist. The young man quickly put this idea to rest.

The third option was to break through the gate. Breaking and entering was illegal, but a chained fence must mean the place was deserted, right? Yet, he couldn't punch through the chain or chew it off. He couldn't physically get through what he needed to. There was no way for him to reach the other side... Except for one. The weapon. The gun on his back that his father had given him. He'd been trying not to use it and draw unwanted attention to himself, but with Death knocking on his door, this wasn't the time to be worried about that. Survive now, then survive later. It's simple.

Nodding his head as if agreeing with his own idea, Bogie slid the gun off his back and held it tightly. He could't shake the worry that more ghouls might find him, but he had resolved himself. Using the butt of the gun as a makeshift shovel, Bogie cleared away some of the snow so that he could set the weapon on the ground with the barrel facing the fence. Backing it up against an up-turned stone as a base, the hunter took a deep breath before finally pulling the trigger.

As if Thor had struck the world with his hammer, the gun released an ungodly boom as it sprayed pellets over the front of the gate. The shotgun was more equivalent to a flak cannon with this type of shell, but without a true base to stand on, the gun was sent flying backwards by its own power, which was the reason that Bogie hadn't held it himself. As the gun flew backwards, the gate did as well, the chain and gate doors ripping off completely against the force of the weapon, with the individual pellets still holding more than enough power to rip a part the bars where they impacted. For this weapon, the Beastslayer, this was a simple feat.

The young hunter shuffled back through the snow to retrieve his weapon, then shuffled his way through the gate along the snow path. Vision in the snow was still reduced, so there was no telling what lie ahead.

---

Gear:

The weary hunter continued through the remains of what was once a gate as the blast of his weapon echoed out into the snow beyond. Whatever was left out there was sure to hear it, even through the howls of the storm. Still, the threat was secondary as Bogart's feet dragged along the stone pathway below him, hidden underneath layers of white. Yet as he pressed on, slowly but surely the icy bombardment gave way to a gentler, tranquil snowfall, beautiful and serene if it weren't for the circumstances.

And as his eyes adjusted to the sudden lack of snow blindness, he was able to see the sanctuary ahead of him, a castle, or perhaps a cathedral seemingly abandoned and empty on it's own lonely outcrop, connected to the mainland only by a decrepit and ancient wooden bridge, the fall below being hundreds of feet onto jagged and frozen rock. In sharp contrast to the state of disrepair everything seemed to be in, several recently lit torches lined the way up to the building on the opposite end of the bridge, their heat and warmth seductive beyond measure.

Yet as this vision of hope became clearer in Bogart's head, it was quickly interrupted by an all to familiar dread, the howling and yelping of ghouls appearing through the snowy veil he had just exited, a familiar face greeting the young hunter.

The bartender.

His wounds fresh but frozen shut, icy blood clung to his body from his neck down to his foot, limiting his movement ever so slightly. His body was pale, but not as clearly discolored as some of the other ghouls he had seen. His eyes still held the same look of dread, of helplessness, though his face was that of mindless hunger, and just behind him were more of the same. Five more townsfolk, slain in various gruesome ways approached Bogart from behind, ready to strike him down as they were commanded. The situation was dire given the hunter's health, and with townsfolk now beginning to show themselves, there were possibly dozens, if not hundreds more ghouls making their way to him at that very moment.

[Ghoul Count: 6]

---

Drum Island had been cruel to the young hunter the entire night. Even whilst being attacked by the undead that chased him, the island had continued to throw a whiteout snowstorm at him as he made a journey half for proof that monsters exist, and half simply for survival. His limbs were stiff from the constant, pouring snow, making it difficult to even raise his feet enough to walk forward. He'd managed to keep a constant pace, but the walking had turned into a movement more similar to stumbling with forward momentum than a conscious march. Turning back meant death to the cold if it didn't get him before something else did, but continuing forward didn't necessarily mean survival. No matter his choice, his life was being gambled with. He was fighting for survival just by existing at that moment.

The man's confidence and urge were waning due to the constant pressure exerted on him over the course of the night, but just as he was contemplating just packing himself a makeshift snow fort, the snowstorm that'd been continuing for hours suddenly let up. The white wall that he'd been pushing against was finally swept to the side, gifting him with a thin, powdery snow veil that finally let him look further than several steps in front of him. All at once, the dread that'd been creeping powerfully into him was overtaken by hope as a large building came into view.

The building looked poorly taken care of, but shelter was shelter. Yet, even though the building itself looked abandoned, the lanterns that were strung up on the path stated otherwise. Whether or not someone - or something - lived inside was yet to be determined, but with the new hope of warmth and shelter ushering him forward, Bogie was going to find out. The last hurdle between him and the front steps was an old, broken-looking wooden bridge. It was terribly out of shape, the fall if it were to fail would be instant death, but there was little choice in the matter. Shelter stood before him, even lights on the path behind it, so the young man would have to trust it.

He took a step on the wooden bridge, but rather than the creak of old, rotting would, he was met with the icy shriek he'd heard all too many times that night. In full force, the hope that had begun to well up within him was snuffed out once again by pure, unbridled dread. Frozen cuts, bruises, bites, and just cold filled his body; ghouls were a death sentence. Even understanding this, the young hunter wanted to live. He turned to face the ghouls and weigh their numbers against his, but that was the worst thing he could have done.

Six in total, the white, lifeless creatures sprinted as fast as they could through the snow. They were unfazed by the temperature, but the fallen snow at least hindered their movements long enough for Bogie to count them and find true despair. He wouldn't be able to beat these numbers in his state, but what prevented him from turning to run were the faces these ghouls had taken. Its face contorted in anguish, the foremost ghoul was one he'd personally dealt with earlier that evening - the bartender. His eyes had a lively fear frozen into them, striking a new emotion into Bogie. It wasn't just fear that had taken hold of the young hunter, but sadness and despair. The rest of the faces were those of townspeople, a few of which he'd actually passed on his way through town or seen drinking at the pub while he was there, now dead and coming to feast. The pub had been centrally located, meaning that if these people were one of the legion of dead, the town needed help.

Bogart managed to step forward at this thought. He needed to help people, but rather than taking a step towards the ghouls and pointing himself back towards town, the young man took another step onto the bridge. The step turned into a shuffle, which evolved into a dead scramble, as a the young hunter fought his way through the built-up snow to reach the other side of the bridge. He was painfully aware of his circumstances; he wouldn't make it back to town at this rate, and even if he did, he wasn't in the shape to save anyone. He'd have to survive first, recuperate, and make his way back to town when he was in better condition.

The ghouls were quick, but they weren't intelligent. Their run was clumsy, giving Bogie just enough time to reach the other side of the bridge and draw his gun as they took their first steps onto the ancient wood. Cocking the gun, Bogie fired. Rather than firing at the ghouls and risking their survival, the hunter directed the barrel of his weapon down and shot the bridge itself. The state of the bridge assisted in forcing it to fall, dropping its debris into the canyon below and taking some of the ghouls with it. The last remaining ghouls, while alive, were stuck on the opposite side of the gap with no way over, at least in the area. Unfortunately, firing the weapon in the way he did meant two things for Bogie. One, he'd released another huge boom to signal his position, and two, he'd sent himself hurtling through the air by the power of his own weapon.

The young hunter was thrown back several meters due to the kickback and would have been heavily injured if the snowstorm hadn't been running for so long. He was still further bruised by it, but the fresh powder had cushioned his fall by a decent amount and, if it could be counted as such, the bright side was now he was decently closer to the building.

Picking himself out of the snow, Bogie pushed forward through the string of lanterns to reach the front porch. The house was poorly kept, but it was shelter nonetheless. Intending not to be rude to those that may or may not dwell within, Bogie knocked loudly on the front door and waited several seconds for a response.

---

Gear:

Bogart struggled not only with his conscience but with the desperate, primal need to survive as he locked eyes with the bartender one final time before destroying the bridge and his singular path back to the mainland along with it, a handful of the ghouls tumbling down to the rocks below. Still, the intense noise from the firearm drew in even more of the creatures, dozens of them pouring out through the snowy sheets beyond, stopping harmlessly at the cliff's edge.

But the young hunter couldn't concern himself with them now.

Steadfast, he approached the home, knocking on it's massive twin doors to a resounding hollow droning. After a few moments of silence, the torches that led him to the building were snuffed out in their entirety, and the door groaned open as if the very act pained it's foundation. The interior was well furnished if not antique, and lit dimly with candles, with a young woman standing in the foyer to greet the hunter, blanket in hand.

"Oh your poor thing, come, come. I'm sure you must be chilled to the bone out there with everything that's been going on lately." the hostess comforted, gesturing for Bogart to come closer. Unlike those he had seen recently, her skin was well colored, and her eyes full of genuine compassion, matching her tone of voice. She wore a plain white gown, sheer enough to be nearly see-through, but it's elegance and craftsmanship drew nearly all attention away from what might otherwise be considered improper about it. Her waist length hair was like that of champagne and her perfume that of lavender. "I'm sure John would be delighted to see that someone had managed to make it here."

Given Bogart's recent experiences, it wouldn't have been out of place to see her as angelic. In a nearby room a fireplace could be heard burning and crackling with life, the smell of freshly cut lumber and smoke lingering in the air. The sound of innumerable undead thralls were like that of a distant memory in her presence, and her comfort assured as much.

[Ghoul Count: ???]

---

The few moments between Bogart knocking on the door and it being opened felt like an eternity, but when it finally did bare its innards to him, what came flowing out was that of a warm breeze. In spite of the decrepit nature of the outside, the inside of the house was kept livable for those suffering the eternal winter of Drum Island. Yet, with the amount of cold that had inched its way closer and closer to Bogie's core, the woman standing in the doorway seemed just as much good fortune as the warmth that he'd longed for for so long now. Since he'd left the tavern in town, he'd seen nothing but and endless swath of death.

The old lady, Esmerelda, that he'd been sent to see had been dead by the time he arrived, with an undead creature standing over her corpse. Upon following that ghoul's tracks, he'd further run into more and more ghouls, and inched his way closer to death by fighting them. Even now, as he stood in front of this young woman, there was a hoard of these very creatures standing at the cliff just a few meters behind him. Among the dead he'd paid witness to, the barkeep he'd interacted with first had joined them. Old death, new death... Death. The young hunter hadn't realized how much of a blessing living company would be until being faced with it now.

Even amongst all the tragedy Bogie had been thrown into since arriving to town, the fruit his recent line of hope had born was what did him in. As the woman stood there in the warmth of this house with a blanket in hand inviting him in, the young man's eyes began to well with tears. Slowly these tears began to stream faster until he was almost sobbing in front of the stranger. Through his tears, Bogie managed to nod in response to her invite.

"Thank you."

---

Gear:

The woman's soothing gaze stayed fixed on the young hunter, her eyes like wells of warm empathy. She took Bogart in, swaddling him in the thick blanket and held him close against her, patting him gently as if he were a distressed child. Yet she gave off no signs of demeaning him or making light of his struggles and stress. Rather she simply offered a shoulder to cry on in silence, gradually leading Bogart to the front of the fireplace where he could warm himself.

"Let me bring you some tea."

After scurrying off out of the room, the woman returned moments later with a cup and saucer, the aromatic vapors of leaves and spices mingling with the already relaxing atmosphere. Placing it gently next to the hunter, she took a seat at a nearby armchair and introduced herself.

"My name is Persephone. Yours?"

[Ghoul Count: ???]

---

Bogart's mind was on the warmth and comfort that was the house, but even then, as the woman led him through the foyer into the room with the fireplace, the young hunter couldn't help but take note of the furnishings. The inside of the house was well maintained, but it was more than just that. The furniture was antique, but maintained to keep it in top shape and well colored. The wooden floors were spotless and shiny, the carpets were clear of any dust, and even down to the moldings around the ceiling and floor, they were all beautifully ornate. At that current moment, however, the fireplace was king of it all. Lions heads carved into the stone molding and an opening even larger than Bogart stood tall, the centerpiece of the room spewed out a constant, powerful warmth that flowed throughout the house.

Leaving Bogart in front of the fireplace, the woman left the room rather quickly, returning just as quick with a tea set in hand for her new guest. Having placed himself on the carpet in front of the fireplace, bundled up tightly in the blanket, Bogie was handed a cup filled with tea by the angel that had saved him. Quietly and with tears still marking his face, the young man sipped gingerly at the warm liquid, relishing in the warmth that not only touched his skin, but now could be felt running down his throat and pooling in his empty stomach. Warmth, company, and sustenance; the house that sat on the hill was place that - at this moment - felt closer to Heaven than anywhere else on Earth.

The young woman spoke, causing Bogart to turn his head in her direction. She introduced herself - Persephone. Her voice was soft and kind, but it almost felt dangerous. There was a metaphysical pressure exerted on Bogie as he listened to her speak that he couldn't quite understand.

"Bogart. Bogart D. Weiss." His voice was raspy. His throat had dried out during his long walk through the snow, but having trudged through the frozen wasteland alone, he hadn't had the chance to notice it. He couldn't help but feel like his own voice was foreign to him. He took another sip of his tea before continuing, "Just call me Bogie. It's easier."

With the warmth finally beginning to touch his core and the stressful weight being lifted off his shoulders, another weight began to take its place. A feeling of sleepiness began to wash over the young hunter's body. Setting his nearly empty teacup on the floor in front of him, Bogie laid himself down on the carpet, feeling the warmth of it with his cheek. As much as he wanted to speak further with the woman that had saved his life, his body was forcing him in another direction.

Slowly, sleep began to take over.

---

Gear:

Doriki:

"So, that's the Weiss boy..." a voice mused callously, sounding as intrigued as it was disappointed.  

"Yes. He's certainly tenacious-" Persephone responded, bowing her head to the silhouette that stood atop the banister of the room.


"Naive. Nothing like Hideki in the slightest." the shadow interrupted, slowly making it's way towards the staircase that wound down to the ground floor and into the basement. "Let the child rest, as my final courtesy to his father. I'm going to prepare myself below. When he awakens, bring him to me. I'll test his spirit as a hunter."

"Of course, John."

[Ghoul Count: ???]

---

Drum Island's intense snow storm had chilled the young hunter through to his core, but now, the fireplace had slowly been fighting off that chill since the young hunter was placed in front of it. The hours of walking and the repeated fights against ghouls had exhausted him beyond human standards, and now he was able to sit down in the safety of an old house. The needed rest was warmly welcomed, but the pure exhaustion he felt made it easy to be attacked by the next foe in line: Sleep. At the foot of the fireplace, Bogart fell asleep where he sat with little in the way of being able to fight off the urge.

In spite of the torment that Bogie had undergone over the course of the night, the rest he was finally able to come by was pitch black. Even dreams had been unable to fight off the exhaustion his body had felt, making his sleep peaceful and potent. By the time the boy woke up from his slumber, the sun had begun to peak in through the curtains and shine brightly on his face. Yet, as he stirred, Bogart couldn't help but feel as if it weren't enough.

Bogie sat up, dumping the blanket to the side, and took note of how his body was feeling after resting. The cuts and bite marks he'd received from the ghouls lined his body and still hurt to the touch, but the blood had clotted and they were no longer endlessly running blood into his clothing. The pain that had been running through his body all night had been exchanged for a constant, deep-seated pain in his muscles. However, for all of what he'd went through and his current condition, the young hunter was still okay to continue moving.

After coming to the conclusion that he was fine to move around, Bogart was able to inspect the room he was in for the first time. The antiquities and age of the furniture finally making their mark on his conscious mind. It was beautiful, but the age gave it an almost eerie feeling. The fire he had fallen asleep next to was now little more than smoldering ash, so the young man stood up. He had been let in, so now was a good time to seek out his savior.

---

Gear:

Persephone stood idly by as the young hunter finally came to rise from his deathlike slumber, his curiosity now able to take priority over his fatigue. Dawn had come and gone, and the light of day had risen to stream into the abode, further highlighting the woman's beauty as she addressed Bogart.

"Good morning, Bogie."

She smiled courteously as she motioned to the stairwell behind her, leading both up to higher levels of the home, as well as down into the darkness of the cellars. "I'm sure you'd like to meet the master of the estate, yes? John was certainly interested in speaking with you, but given your condition, he thought it best you rest."

Leading the hunter down into the lower levels where John waited, Persephone carefully descended the spiraling stairs before stopping in front of a dimly lit doorway, plain yet sturdy wood secured into the stone surrounding it. Gesturing for Bogart to stop, Persephone bowed her head slightly.

"Before you proceed, I should let you know that John is... eccentric. Once you enter into that room, well... If you have any questions for me, ask them now, Bogart."

Her expression was that of a cold concern, as if she had said the words a hundred times before, but expected nothing to come of them. Whatever happened, the woman didn't give the impression that turning back was possible, let alone an option. For the young hunter, his path was clear.

[Ghoul Count: ???]