Oswin tipped the wide brim of his hat in turn but that was the extent of his manners, so quick to interrupt. "Denied laddie!" The cleric bolstered, his companion merely furrowed his brow with a scowl, unable to find a good enough reason to stop him. "Those weren't kind suggestions, they're orders. The Church has got a whiff of the bloodshed here and it stinks of poison. The good doctor'll be getting those samples..." His smile dropped and he pulled up his face scarf, folding back the hand of his tricked pick and making his way to the edge ot the roof with a kick at it's open ledge. While Oswin surveyed a path down he pleaded with the white garbed man to stay, "Watch him, lest I have ye puking all over me boots."<br/><br/>The doctor was left behind with the willowy sniper, he himself appearing something of a mousy aristocrat. A gloved finger pushed up those little round glasses with a sigh, "My apologies, he's quick to be rid of me and I suggested this be the best course of action to put an end to this partnership. It is under my orders that you are not allowed to fire until he retrieves my cadaver... Or dies, whichever comes first." Formal, but so very tired he seemed, pulling the chain of their censer to rest on his shoulder before offering the hunter a bow. "Jaufre, Doctor of the Healing Church."<br/><br/>He himself emitted a choir of soft jingles and clinks as he moved by the large satchel of vials and tools hung from his back, as he neared the lip of the roof to catch possibly a glimpse of the cleric, noticing the various hanging pots and boarded up pits further down the road. "Oh dear..." Jaufre muttered simply, "Dear oh dear indeed..."<br/><br/>-<br/><br/>Boots splashed in stagnant puddles left by the rain, careful as he could with a watchful eye above and below. The extra caution reminded him of why he hated this side of Yharnam, dressed up with a bouquet of explosives and ready for the signal to go off. Sticking to the far sides of the road once he dared to step off the rooftops seemed to serve him well. It was only the stamping of hunters and familiar scraping of a beast's claws against concrete that begged him to hurry. The blurred sight of a man backpedaling away from a four legged, crawling monstrosity was the first he saw of this whole organized charade, though all the noise and ruckus would have led him to it regardless.<br/><br/>A charred hunter raced ahead, baiting the beast with pistol fire as he dashed back and around a set of thin boards that hung across a pit in the middle of a cobblestone road, severely damaged from all the neglect and horrid traps such as these. The floor easily buckled under the beat's wait and no matter of frantic writhing would drag it up to the surface. By the time the cleric broke free of the next alleyway he heard the loud clash of pots below and tore his sight from the now still hunter to one of the Kegs companions who ran forth blindly from the opposite direction, a molotov tossed through the air with practiced grace. If they didn't notice the large, black robed vulture now they would've when a loud, cluttered bang rang through the air, and in the following silence he held his blunderbuss high and watched shards of glass and burning liquor rain on the cold stones.<br/><br/>Past that scarf hung a teeth gritted scowl, at the pit dug deep into the road, the string of pots that hung from the laundry line building to building above the beast's soon-to-be grave. And he could imagine those were the pale hunter's mark and helping hand in this game, if not to save his friend from lethal missteps while the kid played as bait. The blood-curdling howls-- no, screams of their victim broke his quiet, though it had no chance of crawling it's way out of the oil slick.<br/><br/>"Look at this... Tss tss...." Oswin clicked his tongue in disappointment, cocking his gun and aiming it at the beast's head from where he stood at the foot of the pit. The moment it caught site of a living meal it fought to rip it's way up through the mud, all teeth and hair like a savage dog. He made the hunters stop to chatter back and forth with their own shared dismay as he fired off several rounds at the thing's head, satisfied when it finally slumped back down into it's hole. "Will none of ye be satisfied till your lot's burnt down all of Old Yharnam..!?" He scolded viciously, snapping his eyes from hunter to hunter while shoving his gun back on it's clip and pulling out his pick with a sharp clang. "The goddamn road's been torn apart! Bless the poor fools who live in this pig sty!" He muttered, harshly and mostly to himself, slamming the sharp end of his pick into the deep pit to lodge itself in the beast's skull.<br/><br/>Little time later had the doctor trotted down the road, having asked their acquainted sniper to lead the way around this death trap he was so keen to boast of. Some having already been triggered and leaving behind burnt corpses and blackened ash. "You've got it!?" Jaufre cried in joy, laying eyes on the big, northern brute of a cleric dragging the specimen out limb by limb with his pick. It was a morbid kind of thrill, and far more surgical in nature than that of the workshop variety, and something he quickly stifled to shoo off the pack that surrounded them-- politely, of course. "Continue your hunt elsewhere gentleman, this kill is now forfeit. Our great Healing Church appreciates your cooperation. May the good blood guide your way." He ended his final phrase with a bow for flourish, and in stark contrast to the cleric who stood ragged.<br/><br/>Before Oswin took the beast by the leg and dragged it into the safety of a nearby alley he was sure to bark "And pull down those stinkin' pots! The gods forbid they fall on top of some ol' bloke while he's out to repair this mess you've made in the morning."<br/><br/>-<br/><br/>The cleric stood watch while Jaufre gathered his samples. A finger wrapped in cheap silk, blood drained into a bottle, hair clipped and a single eyeball plucked. Brother Oswin couldn't tell if one was all he needed or if it was because his gun did a number on the other. Once finished he was more than quick to suggest they crawl their way back out of Old Yharnam, and hopefully they'd make it by the morning the large beacon of a moon sunk back below the horizon. Small game fell in their path along the way, and even the doctor got his hands dirty, ripping that bladed cane of his through a pitiful crow's hide, so mutated by the scourge it could no longer fly.<br/><br/>A job well done, he remarked to himself silently, pulling down mask and censer once safe in the doctor's clinic, who was painted red head to toe and quickly scolded by the missus for tracking in bad blood on his boots. Dawn's light streamed through the windows as the white robed pair began to unload the wealth of data stored in that lumpy satchel. Oswin bid his farewell, denying further company and going off on his merry way. The few heads brave enough to poke their heads out as the sun broke over the jagged line of the Cathedral Ward's towers stared wide eyed as the drenched, black garbed hunter walked past, if not shut their doors at the sight.<br/><br/>He paid them little heed, eager to retreat for a few paltry hours of sleep before he had to be up to help distribute incense and pull the dead out of buildings and off the streets. Hard work neverending.