This DLC contains:
– The Bone Mason (Hunter)
– Fissure (Romero 77 Hatchet)
– Fresh Marrow (Caldwell Conversion Uppercut)
– Scarfskin Satchel (First Aid Kit).
The Bone Mason
Béatrice Maunet lost her light and name in the bone-halls of the Catacombs of Paris after finding her boy’s decomposing remains. She crossed the Atlantic for Louisiana, hoping to redeem herself from remorse and hear her son’s voice again.
Fissure
Each bone Béatrice Maunet touched in the Catacombs of Paris left a mark on her mind. She adorned this Romero 77 Hatchet with the same tools she used to make room for her boy’s remains in the bone walls, before she started chasing his ghost in the Bayou.
Fresh Marrow
Béatrice Maunet still remembers the smell of rotting marrow vividly. This Caldwell Conversion Uppercut was named after she brought it to the Bayou to fend off dangers by expelling the fresh marrow from her enemies’ bones.
Scarfskin Satchel
Some believed that this First Aid Kit was adorned with the decomposing skin of Béatrice Maunet’s son. Though the stories were considered groundless, hope rekindled in her heart whenever she caressed the cover that felt familiar to the touch.
The bells of Notre-Dame de Paris rang in screaming agony through the night as the City of Light slept silently, marking the passing hours. The city had been soaked in rain for five days, and Béatrice Maunet was drenched and exhausted. She had searched each street and alley, yet her son Henri was nowhere to be found. The only place left to search was the world underground. Desperation brought her to the entrance of the Catacombs of Paris. A faint hope sparked in her heart as she read the warning out loud: “Arrête! C’est ici l’empire de la mort.” Knowing Henri was a courageous boy, she delved into the dark halls.
After thousands of steps into the abyss, in the world of the living, days turned to nights, but in the halls of the dead, time came to a standstill. She memorized the feel of each bone and skull, every crack and fracture that made them unique. Darkness governed her mind and soul, and the bone-walls whispered countless stories of agony and death. She walked and walked until in a dark, uncharted hall she felt the familiar touch of her boy’s face. She followed the bones back and emerged with him in her arms – lifeless and decomposing.
Béatrice cleaned her boy’s remains carefully, giving him his last bath. Her mind clouded by remorse, she hoped to find closure in the Catacombs, where it all had begun. Each midnight she offered his bones to the walls, treating them with the respect and great precision of an artist, wishing they would accept her precious boy. But the walls had gone silent, and as years passed, she lost her will and name to become the Bone Mason – the phantom of the great Catacombs – so dubbed by those who witnessed her enter the abyss whenever the bells tolled twelve. And as time killed the last spark of hope, a mysterious letter pointed at Louisiana, where she could find other lost souls. Throughout her journey across the Atlantic, she tenderly caressed the satchel she’d crafted. No one believed the story behind the satchel, but Béatrice found comfort in the familiar touch of its cover, rumored to be bound in her boy’s own skin.
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