So, I decided to give it a shot with a game title this time. New year, new story! This idea came to me at the beginning of the year, and I was debating about whether or not that I should go through with it. So I decided to check out the archive and there is barely any of it's kind. Plus, I'm a fan of From Softwares titles, so this is more for my entertainment than anything. So, I would like to take this opportunity to say; if I miss something or incorrectly explained it in this story, I'll still write on regardless! Not gonna have another I'm Only Human issue that I had with that story. But I appreciate the feedback from you guys! None of my other stories are dead, I've just been busy with life, and trying to wrap up some things that needed to be finished since last year. But, I love you all, and looking forward to this year's updates!
Let me know what you think, and enjoy!
Chapter 1...
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"...We are born of the Blood,
made men by the Blood,
undone by the Blood.
Our eyes are yet to open.
Fear the Old Blood."
~~~Provost Willem.~~~
~~~Central Yharnam. Night of the Hunt...~~~
As the clock struck another hour in the closing night, the isolated, gothic-victorian town of Yharnam gave little to no reaction. The town itself was wrapped in mystery. But only one line is drawn when taking to the streets at this hour, and the only relevant one at this point in time.
The Huntsmen, and the Beasts.
For the better part of the century, the Hunts took place mostly at night, when darkness enveloped the region. Anyone brave enough to fight against the monstrosities, and vile beasts went out into the night to slay them. How was the town reduced to this predicament, you ask? Well, that's a complicated tale. ((Auther's note. But I'm gonna simplify it for you, cause this lore is bottomless pit territory. LOL))
The Choir, founders of The Healing Church, with its several branches of power, were backed by the populace who had nearly absolute faith in their work, after years of freely distributing their "Healing Blood" that could cure any known ailment. It truly was a miracle that would pledge obedience, and win over any non-religious folk seeking a cure for a terminal ailment.
People came far and wide to obtain this blood that was said to revert you to good health. And make no mistake, the word had spread far, and many came to this place of healing for their own reasons. The Church grew in abundant numbers, obtaining support, and nearly endless resources. Soon the church split and each branch it formed was devoted to its own practices and ideals. With no shortage of followers and ever-growing support, the Healing Church, more or less controlled Yharnam, the place it was founded.
But such a miracle was a precursor to a much greater affliction that made known sicknesses pale in comparison. Something so horrid, no one, not even the founders of the Healing Church could have seen.
For their eyes were yet to open as well.
The Scourge of the Beast.
Over the years of distributing blood to the people, folk began to adopt much less human anatomy, and their minds devolved to a more bestial mentality. Fur began to grow, covering their bodies as if they were wild animals. Their bodies slowly transformed into absurd proportions. Their minds were no longer their own, and madness consumed them into blood-crazed lunatics.
As time went on, the hunts become more of a necessity and were a daily or rather a nightly way of life for the population. For every beast that was cut down, crushed, or burned to a crisp, so were many that participated in the Hunts. And the beasts only grew stronger, and far more terrifying than the last.
But regardless of the lives lost, and the horrors that were faced, the Yharnamites were not shaken and had faith that their church would find a way to rid them of the Scourge of Beasts.
However, that was years before, and Yharnam is already plagued and overrun with mad villagers that were transformed into wolf-like people long ago. Though in their minds they were out hunting beasts, in reality, they were becoming what they hunted. The Scourge of the Beast sickness taking over, and transforming them into their lycanthrope-like state. The only ones out at this hour were the huntsmen mob or some unfortunate individual made into a horrific corpse by the huntsmen. They did not discriminate, regardless. If it was an innocent, gentlewoman, or a wailing child abandoned on the street, anything not of their own resemblance was burned to the stake or made sport of their own, putrid, decaying, hunting dogs. For all things foreign, a threat to Yharnam, is killed on the spot.
They roamed the littered and complex streets of Yharnam with their torches and makeshift weapons. Their farming tools, house knives, and old firearms may have made them look desperate, but make no mistake. For what they lacked in strength and skill, their endless numbers certainly made up for it.
If you were a wise resident of this town, you locked and boarded up your doors and windows. And for extra measure, placed an incense that deterred any beasts in the area outside your home. Turn away anyone seeking refuge, for even if they were not an abomination, mad with blood-crazed intentions themselves, you could not tell if they were fast on their way to becoming one. The oldest and most strongest emotion is fear. And the most oldest and strongest fear, is fear of the unknown.
No one in their right state of mind would come to this doomed area of death and despair.
Well, almost nobody.
The average, able-bodied man, couldn't strike a beast correctly and stumbled around like a foolish neanderthal fending off a threat that clearly was beyond them. However, a certain group led by one of the former cells of the church produced a kind of warrior that specialized in beast hunts with unparalleled prowess and finesse.
These people were called Hunters.
Hunters come far and wide to hunt beasts they perceive to be a threat. The Scourge of the Beast sickness that ailed most of Yharnam was evident enough to warrant their attention. While the church produced Hunters of their own, there were Hunters from outside that also came to join the hunt. No Hunter is the same, though. Each Hunter comes from a different background and has their own reasons for fighting. Let it be for the power of Blood that echoes within beasts, or seeking insight to understand the origins of which brought the sickness to this point. While they risk falling prey to the same plague that everyone else succumbed to, they risked their lives, and minds to put an end to the beasts.
To combat these creatures of the blood, a Hunter needs the proper equipment, skill, and strength. While you would think to defend yourself with bulky shields, and strong, heavy armor, a Hunter sees these things like a good way to get yourself killed. While they view the idea of defense as a hindrance, they offer a much more efficient way to take the beasts attacks head-on.
And that was their speed.
Mobility was a Hunter's specialty and incorporated into their fighting style. They could outmaneuver beasts in seconds, and strike them in their blind spots before the monster could even react. It was efficient, deadly, and quick. Precision was a Hunter's mindset when on the attack. They would strike, evade and strike until the foe they constantly punished no longer took another breath. Which is why they preferred thick leather coats, plated gauntlets and shin guards, or any light clothing to not hinder their movements. Of course, a sense of style was also taken into account for each hunter's uniform, for them to be dignified and respected in the face of death. For a Hunter's attire, dignity and elegance were more of a statement that you were still human than a filthy beast.
Even if they splatter blood of different shades all over themselves in the process.
As for their weapons, well, they were of a unique design. Known as trick weapons, they were carefully crafted tools of death that had primary and secondary functions. While some utilized the force of swinging their weapon to make a cut, into a decapitation, others had additional functions to allow a user to switch it to a more favorable form on the fly, to suit the situation in the heat of battle. Couple that with a Hunter's choice of powerful firearm, that shot quicksilver bullets to harm beasts, and the Hunters were more than a match for any nightmare they came across.
Our attention is taken to one particular Hunter that is stalking the streets of Yharnam. We see him sitting comfortably with one of his legs crossed on a crate in a back alley, cluttered with barrels, knocked over benches, and messed up carts with supplies spilled everywhere. While he did wear the hunter's attire of a long dark coat that covered most of his utility belt, and lightly armored gauntlets and leg armor, he wore no hat or face mask. Instead, resting in a fixed place on his grizzled, handsome, mature face, was dark red glasses. Behind the red lenses were dark, hazel colored eyes that were half-open most of the time. His dark grey hair was combed to the side and gave a bit of a sheen. He definitely seemed to give a more, gentleman feel to him, given the state of his attire. But he was a Hunter, that fact he would demonstrate in the near future. He sat against the wall looking up at the reddened sky lost in thought. The most prominent thing hanging above it, the moon. He gazed up toward the slightly reddened orb and was lost in thought. He wasn't sure, but he could begin to see some strange figure just in the center of the reddened moon. Sometimes he would just find himself just getting lost in staring at the moon. He couldn't describe it, but over time he began to feel like something was there. And it oddly didn't sit well with him.
(BELL RINGING)
"..."
The Hunter then heard the toll of the clock tower beckoning the approaching hour. He let out a silent sigh and slowly stood up. He then turned and began walking through the alleyway, but not before quickly pulling a bladed cane out of a recently deceased huntsman's eye socket, making a disturbing, flesh-ripping noise. He held the cane slightly off the ground, so as to not let the metallic ringing be heard along with his already loud enough footsteps. As his boots echoed the walk through the alley, he kept a steady watch around him. Being attacked from any angle was no surprise to him, yet it could still very well be.
"This place...how many times have I died here?" He recalled a spot at which some huntsman jammed a pitchfork into his chest, and another spot he got mauled by one of their fiendish mutts. He stopped to reminisce about his constant reawakening into the events that led him here. No matter how many times he 'died', he always re-awakened to find himself in the world he departed. Just like a dream, or rather...a nightmare. The only twist was, was that every time he reawakened, he encountered the same scores of beasts and huntsmen he slew. "...go out and just kill a few beasts...(scoffs)...they never seem to end, Gehrman." He recalled an earlier conversation he had with someone when he first got here in this damnable place. Just an old man in a wheelchair with a peg leg. He introduced the Hunter to this mess when the Hunter thought he was cured of the sickness that plagued him. But after coming to grips and of understanding of this strange place, the Hunter just heeded the old man's words as if he had nothing better to do.
"Wonder how I'll die next...?" Was the constant question in the Hunter's mind. Death didn't really scare him at this point. If the events of this town always turned back to fixed moments, what was the point of dwelling on it? The fear of drawing his last breath, gone. The moment his heart stopped, it was like it never happened. But experiencing death over and over and over and over again was just enough to wish you were dead. But the Hunter didn't dwell on such depressing thoughts. Instead, he took to studying his opponents. Looking for openings in their attacks, experimenting with different take-downs of the enemies he faced. After countless deaths, he found that the things he tiptoed around at the beginning were mere cannon-fodder.
"YOU RAT! I'LL BASH YER BRAINS!" A huntsman with a hatchet erupted from the cart that was broken down in the alley and charged with reckless abandon towards the Hunter from behind. The Hunter waited until the last second, and he quickly dashed back behind the huntsmen, and pulled out a pistol, and shot the Huntsmen in the back of the head, causing it to hit the ground face first. The encounter was only a few quick seconds. As it lied there dead, the Hunter lowered his smoking pistol and had a curious air about him.
"Did he follow me from the main street?" The Hunter slowly walked past the dead body, making sure he hit his mark, which he did. After a brief inspection, he resumed walking down the alley.
Later...
As the Hunter took his time looking around, he came upon a large group of huntsmen, which prompted him to slow his pace. He had the high ground and was looking over an iron fence that revealed a bonfire with a large beast staked to it. It looked like the huntsmen were gathered around it in awe. He pulled out a monocle, that had a binocular-like piece attached to it, and examined the area.
"Around a dozen. Two rifles, one on top of that carriage. The other, ground level...couple dogs. Hm?" He noticed something banging on the large wooden gate behind the group. He could faintly detect the sound of roaring, and heavy hits on the doors. "One of those big brutes. I see a way around." The Hunter put away his monocular and took one final look around him. "Should be a fair fight." He slightly chuckled. The two riflemen of the huntsmen were in the back. One overlooking, another street level. One of them suddenly reacted and looked out in the distances of the street, and spotted the Hunter looking through his monocular and aiming right at him. A shot rang out from the Hunter's pistol, and the gunman overlooking the rest was dead in an instant. The whole mob turned to see the direction they heard the noise, and one of the ones closest to the bonfire, was kicked hard by the closing Hunter, and was sent crashing into another beast-man, and the two were flailing as they burnt to death in the fire they were standing next to. The Hunter dashed forth and stabbed his cane in one huntsmen and quickly pulled it out and slashed the head off to the one next to him.
"GET 'EM!" One of them ordered their dogs to attack the Hunter. The Hunter took aim and shot one of the dogs dead, while it ran toward him. He then leaned to the side and slashed the other dog which hopped at him, slicing its side wide open in a spray of blood. The last riflemen took aim at the hunter, but the hunter quickly closed the distance and touched a button on his cane, and he whipped it, transforming it into a long, threaded blade. He lashed it out toward the huntsmen to snag the rifle out of his hands, successfully, violently throwing it on the ground. Disarmed now, the huntsman was helpless before the Hunter. He swiped his whip and tangled it around the huntsmen's neck, it's metal shards buried deep in its neck. The Hunter gave it a good yank and pressed the button on his cane, and it ripped the huntsmen's head out of his body, along with its spine in a gruesome display. His whip retracted back into the cane, and he turned around to shoot one of them coming at him with garden shears, and he dashed forth to swing at the second that followed, slicing its neck in an arc of red. The Hunter moved like a blur as he fell each of the mob, normal eyes not able to follow.
The last four managed to surround the Hunter and they charged him at the same time. The Hunter narrowed his eyes, and he quickly spun around and slashed two of them with his whip, spilling their guts in the process. He retracted the whip and thrust his cane into the third, and released his whip from his hand to dash backward to dodge a saw that would have dug into his shoulder. He aimed his pistol at the last one and put a silver bullet right between its eyes. As the ring of bodies laid around him he let out a sigh of relief. He walked over to grab his cane and he pulled it from the furred gut of the huntsmen. As it trickled with a coat of blood, he struck the bottom of the cane on the ground and transformed into its normal state while flicking the blood clean off it as if nothing happened.
"...hmph." He scoffed while looking at all the still human corpses that were thrown into the fire. He spotted what looked like a baby basket chard black. He remained silent as he gazed into the fire, his red lenses reflecting what he was looking at. He then noticed some blood dripping down his glasses. He stuck his cane fast into a nearby kill, and he polished the glasses until they were clean. The handkerchief that was of white, pure cotton was now stained with the blood of beast-men. He slowly put them back on and then yanked his cane blade out of the still-warm body, and left without a word. He then walked over to one of the riflemen he killed and began searching the corpse. He found a small bag of quicksilver bullets that were fastened to the waist. He clenched the bag and tied them onto his belt that revealed several other bags that held the same ammunition.
"RRRRAAWWWW!" A hulking brute beat on the wooden gate continuously with no sign of breaking through anytime soon. Where he was once a regular human, he was now a mindless hulk with only the constant thought of smashing anything into a bloody pulp. While it persisted in its folly, it failed to notice the Hunter standing behind it. He slowly walked toward the enraged troll and slowly revealed another weapon upon his person that was hidden in his coat. It was a Saw Cleaver. A common Hunter's weapon that used centrifugal force to amplify attacks. Its handle was long and curved, and the saw blade itself was a thick cleaver, bandaged and riddled with wicked teeth to easily draw blood from its victims. When the Hunter was in striking distance, he whipped the weapon to his side and it extended into a much longer reach with a mechanical switching sound. This alerted the giant troll and right after it veered its ugly head to investigate the strange noise, it's head was already on it's way to being embedded by the rigid, sharp teeth of the Hunter's weapon.
"HrGH!" The Hunter grunted with effort as he swung his Saw Cleaver down into the troll's head. It sunk deep into the large man's head as if it were of no effort, due to the clever design of the weapon. The troll man went limp and he fell forward and hit the ground with a loud thud. The Hunter retrieved his weapon, acting like it were normal routine and walked up to the giant. He then pulled out a small bottle that had a needle on its lid. He stabbed it into the troll and pulled back the miniature plunger inside, and it sucked the blood out of the troll until it was full. He then brought out three empty vials and filled each with the blood he took from the behemoth.
"I suppose I should be thankful that these monsters were large consumers of the blood that heals. Irony at it's best I suppose." The hunter slid the vials into a pocket he kept lined in a row. He then heard what sounded like a ghastly scream echoing throughout the town. He turned his head toward the direction he heard it.
After a few detours, he made his way around the mess of the town. He was now on the great bridge that was leading further into Yharnam, and he scoped out the rest of the bridge. He looked out toward the other end and saw two massive wolves patrolling the midsection. They were probably bigger than the trolls in the area, and they were twice as dangerous. He looked past it, and saw another troll on the bridge, surrounded by stunningly large crows. He didn't see much else and debated on his next move. He analyzed the situation carefully.
"That bulk of no-brains shouldn't be an issue, but those Scourge Beasts aren't fun to tangle with...if I could just limit the engagement to one on one, it shouldn't be an issue. Huh?" He looked behind him at the blocked off section, and he noticed some molotovs next to the corpse of a dead huntsman. He hummed with a smile and discreetly made his way over without alerting the wolves. He picked up two of them and looked back and the Scourge Beasts still crawled back and forth in the same area. He sneaked up to a lopsided carriage that blocked the view from the demonic beasts and then peeked around the corner. He saw them munching down on spoiled remains of one of those giant crows and leaned back against the carriage.
"I was going to save this for later at the work shop..." The Hunter pulled out a bottle of blood he kept on him. However, it was no normal blood. He used a lighter he had kept on him, and lit the molotovs. He then threw the bottle of blood on the ground ahead of him. The sound of glass breaking and the intoxicating aroma that gave off from the blood attracted the two Scourge Beasts from their meal. A much sweeter smell enveloped the air that drew them from their kill. They menacingly made their way towards the sweet-scented blood pool past the carriage, and they began licking the pool of blood. The Hunter, who now had a full view of them, picked up the molotovs from the ground and then threw one directly onto one of the beasts, prompting it to buck madly and flail around in a mad fury as it burned. He threw the second molotov at the second beast, but it dove out of the way and reared it's enraged gaze toward the hunter.
"(Sigh). Confound it." The Hunter just viewed this as nothing more than an annoyance. Sure, when the beasts were unaware they were sitting targets, but when facing them head-on, it required a bit more effort to not become their next victim. The hunter grabbed his pistol and took aim at the charging wolf. It raised its bloody paw, lined with long, razor-sharp claws and swung violently at the Hunter. The Hunter then fired, and just before the Scourge Beast's attack could connect, it stumbled and became temporarily immobilized from the shot. The hunter then thrust his hand deep into the scourge beast's neck and impaled it with his own arm. He then ripped his hand free, along with whatever else he clutched within the beast's neck, and the beast fell back, with a gaping hole in the side of its neck. It slowly growled before dying on the spot from the visceral attack. The second beast was still flailing around violently, trying to put out the fire. The hunter reloaded his pistol in a calm manner and then shot the beast twice, and it died. The hunter was now slathered with beast blood, head to toe.
"Eeww..." The Hunter had a disgusted look at the sate he was in. He grabbed his cane, before proceeding. But suddenly he felt a sharp pain slice into his back. And he turned around to stab a Huntsmen in the stomach while glaring deep into its hollow eyes. He then shoved the huntsmen down some stairs and plucked a harvesting tool out of his back with a pained expression. "Damn, where the hell was he hiding?" He grunted angrily at such an amateur mistake. He pulled out a blood vial and gave himself a shot until it was emptied. He then let out a sigh of relief and placed the blood vial back in his coat. The wound began to close up, but the soreness was still there. He sat down next to the stairs and rested for a moment before proceeding. The initial attack he sustained wasn't deep enough to kill, thanks to the fact he kept his saw cleaver mounted on his back, but the feeling of rusty farming equipment being thrust into your body was a very painful ordeal.
He caught his breath and he grunted in pain while standing to his feet. He slowly walked toward the crows and the troll who was holding a brick in its hand. He engaged the whip function of his cane and dashed forth. He then slid on the ground while at the same time spinning around to slash all three large ravens with blinding speed. For the most part, it eviscerated all three in the blink of an eye. Half their beaks, wings, and necks were slashed cleanly. Now that he was close to the troll, he drew his pistol, and fired a through and through the troll's lower body. The troll bent down from having its insides blown out it's back, but the Hunter retracted his cane and shoved it right into its chin and into its head. He was eye level with the troll before it lost the life in its eyes. As it fell backward, the Hunter pulled the bloody cane out of its head. He whipped the blood off his cane and proceeded forward without another word.
The end of the bridge was in sight, and the open, narrow road leading further into the town was a bit chilling. The Hunter stopped before getting too far ahead. He eyed his surroundings for any more traps or enemies that were lying in wait. He saw nothing, but that didn't mean he was alone. "...I thought with no enemies around, I'd feel a sense of peace, but honestly...this silence is unnerving." He just couldn't take the silence after the bloody swathe he cut through to get here.
(BEASTLY WAILING)
"..!?" The Hunter turned around and looked again to locate the pained screaming that echoed around him. He looked everywhere and kept a watchful eye around, but saw nothing. He then heard a heavy crash behind him and slowly turned around while grabbing his saw cleaver. He came face to face with an abnormally large beast. It was at least three times the size of the Scourge Beasts he dealt with earlier. But it's fur was pale, and green, and one of its arms was covered in thick fur. Its hand could probably crush him in an instant, being twice as large as it's other. It also had horns in the shape of crusty antlers. It's lower body looked a bit fragile though, it's rib cage exposed over its stomach. Its ear-piercing howl announced it's presence.
The Cleric Beast.
"And I thought the sound of silence was eerie." He swung the weapon out into's it's extended form. "But that ghostly howl...I'm going to hear that in my sleep." He humored the large beast that towered over him. The Cleric Beast held back it's large, clawed hand, intent on winding up a powerful swing to send the Hunter flying. The Hunter waited for a second for it to begin swiping, and he darted forth under its legs. It's large paw missed the hunter and just sent out a strong pressure of wind that blew the carriage on the bridge off the side. The Hunter swung with all his might and he landed a massive slice on the beast's back. He then backed off to see it's reaction. He widened eyes as it slowly turned around to face him with it's blackened stare.
"Not deep enough? Normally they go down in one hit. This beast is on a different level compared to the usual Scourge Beasts." He then stopped thinking and noticed it's large paw coming down at him. He dashed back to just barely escape the crushing blow of the Cleric Beast.
"That reach is longer than I anticipated. If I misjudge that long arm's reach, I'm waking back up in that alley." The Hunter switched the trick weapon back to its original form and kept an eye on the beast as he circled it slowly. He then charged forth and slashed its legs, trying to get the beast to buckle, but it didn't even flinch. Instead, it raised it's arms up, and closed its hands into a fist. The Hunter dashed away from the Cleric Beast, and dodged a hammer-like strike which crumbled the ground like it was just dirt.
"Do you not feel pain?!" The Hunter growled in annoyance. He then drew his pistol and fired a shot to its face. Its head caught the bullet, but it crept toward the Hunter. It then violently thrashed toward the Hunter in a frenzy of claw swipes that sliced through the ground like paper. The Hunter was caught retreating backward in a series of quick-stepping leaps. The Hunter found an opening, and he charged forth with his Saw Cleaver and sliced its midsection, and then extended it outward, prompting his cleaver to slice deeper. The Cleric Beast seemed to react from the bloody slice to it's lower body, making a spray of blood coat the area around them. It buckled and took a step back. This was what the Hunter wanted, and he grabbed the curved handle with both hands, spun around to deliver an outward cut the beast received, that made it lose blood like a fountain. It bowed it's head, reeling from the damage it received, and the Hunter pulled out his pistol and blasted its skull at close range. The beast stumbled back and lowered it's horned head to the ground while covering it's deeply cut stomach. The Hunter dropped his Saw Cleaver and grabbed his cane that he kept holstered in place of the cleaver under the back of his coat, and then shoved it deep into the Cleric Beast's head. It went further in and he grunted while clenching his teeth in defiance.
"That has to kill you." He hissed at the beast. But suddenly he found himself lifted from the ground and thrown backward, high in the air from the beast's head. His body crashed into a pile of barrels that were at the gate. "GYAAAHH!" He shouted in pain. He felt like he was just like a bug being chucked straight into a wall. He had a stick of wood shoved into his arm. Must have been from the pile of barrels he landed in. He grunted as he turned around and saw the Cleric Beast upon him already. His cane still sticking into its skull. As he sat up to face it, the beast looked like it was getting ready to pound him into the ground, raising its hand like a massive hammer.
"...heh..." The Hunter simply chuckled and lowered his head to accept his inevitable demise. But then his eyes changed. He saw what looked like a blunderbuss in the hands of a passed on resident at his feet. They probably died the same way. Whether it was loaded or not didn't matter. The hunter grabbed it and clumsily dove out of the way from the heavy hit that sent wooden splinters in every direction. He raised the miniature cannon at the beast's head. Accuracy was not an issue. As long as you aimed in a beast's general direction, you were guaranteed to hit it even if you were off by a little when it came to this weapon. "Tell me you left something in the damn gun!" The Hunter prayed the deceased owner of this weapon didn't waste all the shots. He pulled the trigger, and suddenly a loud boom rang out from the large firearm. Deadly buckshot fired from the weapon, and it blew one side of the Cleric Beast's head off. Another crimson explosion staggered the titanic wolf, making it nearly hit the ground. The Hunter dashed forth once more and grabbed his cane that was still embedded in the beast's head. It was going to buck him off again, but this Hunter held fast to the handle. He pressed the button on it, and its threaded form revealed it's self. He hopped off the beast's head and landed on the ground before he could be sent flying toward the other end of the bridge.
"Hrrgh!" He then gave it his all and yanked the rest of the rigid blades out of the beast, and the last of its head was ripped to shreds. Its body was motionless for a moment, before falling backward and shaking the ground with one last quake. The pale Scourge Beast was no more. The Hunter slowly stood up with his back facing the now headless monstrosity. He panted heavily and was about to fall as well, but he struck his cane in the ground to catch himself and reverting back to its regular form. He shakily adjusted his glasses and let out a sigh of relief. He turned to the weapon that won him the fierce battle and looked at it carefully. "Much obliged, friend." He graciously bowed to the corpse he lifted the blunderbuss off of. He then saw a lantern appear not too far from him.
"I need to collect my weapons first." He nodded. He weakly picked up his saw cleaver and dragged it behind. He got to where his gun was and breathed deeply before reaching down to grab it. No sooner he picked it up, he caught a glint of something coming down on him, and he dashed back to dodge an overhead swing from a curved sword. It crumbled the ground where he would have been if he wasn't so hyper-aware. "So annoying! I thought I killed everything on this damn bridge!?" He rolled back and onto his feet, and pointed his pistol at the attacker. He was then surprised to find himself aiming at something other than huntsmen or a beast. He instead was looking at a woman who was similarly dressed as himself. Her attire consisted of a black trench coat that usual hunters wore. But a dark, red, short cape draped over one of her shoulders and the coat. Beneath that was also a black dress shirt with vertical golden lines. She sported the same utility gear he wore, but a large brown belt fastened around her stomach, pressing the coat against her body. She also sported a black Panama hat.
"Nimble fella, are ya?" She spoke to the Hunter. "Apologies. I mistook your crippled state for one of these mad folk." She looked up at him with dark purple eyes and a gentle, pale, pretty face that looked angelic. She had a beauty mark beneath her left eye, and her hair was black as night. She cracked him a slight smile from her glossy, dark red lips as she raised her long saber-like weapon over her shoulder.
"..." The Hunter wasn't sure how to respond. He could only speculate what this female warrior was doing here. "She's hunter material alright. Damn woman nearly buried my head in the street." The Hunter lowered his pistol. She didn't seem like she came to kill him, but at this point, he was only thinking about getting to the lantern, which she was standing in front of. "I accept your apology, hunter. But I suggest asking first before resorting to violence. A young woman like ya' self shouldn't be swinging slabs of silver at the first sign of trouble." He clearly was being sarcastic as he holstered his pistol and stood upright with both hands over his cane.
"And an old geezer like you shouldn't be out bitin' off more than he can handle. These streets are riddled with enough corpses as it is." She tapped her sword over her shoulder while approaching him.
"I'm not looking to add to the body count." He adjusted his glasses after she stood in front of him.
"I beg to differ you old codger. This bridge is territory to a large pale Scourge Beast. Folk around here refer to it as a Cleric Beast." She explained to him. "You a resident here, old man?" She asked curiously.
"Now look here, hunter. I may look older, but I can still handle a couple of shit birds with kitchen knives and farming tools...mrgh!" He yanked out the wooden spike in his shoulder and tossed it aside. He then pulled out a vile and injected it into his leg. He carefully placed it back into his coat and he felt a bit better now. However, the soreness remained.
"..." The female hunter looked around them and at the fallen, wretched beast. " Well now...this is baffling. You know, recently I've been wandering here and there, and I always seem to find nearly every huntsmen, or beast slain from here to the clinic. Was that your handiwork?" She questioned.
"You don't honestly believe an 'old man' would put up much of a fight against those freaks, do ya?" He scoffed.
"An old man? No. A hunter, however..." She suddenly narrowed her eyes. "Would make short work of such filth." She also beckoned towards the dead Cleric Beast. "And certainly capable of slaying the Cleric Beast."
"..." He was silent. This lady was asking too many questions. It seems she was just fishing for information. "Believe what you will, hunter. I'll be heading out first." He said as he attempted to walk past her, but was suddenly stopped by her sword, which blocked the way to the lantern. "So damn close." The Hunter sighed in annoyance. He was nearly home free.
"You never answered my question." She reminded as she slowly pressed the broadside of her saber against the top of his chest until the silver blade's edge was at his throat. The Hunter didn't react and just turned his eyes at her.
"...I have no ties here. I'm just passing through." He answered reluctantly. "So stubborn." He didn't approve of this treatment.
"You're a hunter, aren't you?" She more or less guessed. "You with the Church?"
"The Church? No. I just came out to kill a few beasts." He snickered at repeating the words he heard from an old man. "You should point your silver at beasts. Not other hunters." He gently pushed her blade away from his throat.
"The last hunter I came across was drunk off of blood. He said something similar." She lowered her sword.
"Do I look like one of these blood starved dogs, lady?" He sarcastically asked.
"I'd have killed you if you were, but you took flight before my weapon so much as grazed your skin. Maybe an old crow, perhaps?" She giggled with amusement.
"Don't even get me started on the crows." He looked away and remembered when he was pecked to death by them in a previous life.
"You are the most odd. I'm surprised that you can have such a normal conversation in this land of gloom and doom. You are retaining your sanity even when in this endless loop of a nightmare." She praised.
"Maybe I just don't care." He shrugged and stuck his lip out.
"If you don't care, why do you go out then?" She propped her sword on the ground. "Stay in the Hunter's Dream. Bask in the ever caring embrace of the Doll, and just forget about cutting down beasts." She suggested.
"This dream won't end that easily." He spoke in a more serious manner. "Such an idea may seem appealing at the start, but it's all just a dream. I don't relish the haven of a land of make-believe. I'll awake from this petty illusion, even if I have to slaughter every beast in this town." He vowed. "Or maybe this is all just a twisted version of the afterlife. Either way, 'sittin on my ass isn't going to change anything." He huffed.
"...you're an odd one indeed." The huntress giggled once more. "Though your way with words is much to be desired, your skill is certainly admirable." She let him pass after judging his character.
"Think about what you will." He shrugged. He didn't waste any time and walked toward the lantern.
"Hey, buzzard." She turned with a hand on her hip. "What's your name?"
"My name?" He raised his brow.
"Oh, where are my manners?" She feigned a fumbled tone. "You can call me...Briar. I'm a hunter, just like you." She placed one leg behind the other and bowed courteously.
"...pleasure is mine." He responded dryly.
"Oi, now, I gave you my name. Don't be fickle and give me yours." She seemed annoyed at his careless response.
"...name..." He stopped for a moment. He seemed lost in thought over it. "...I've not heard it in a while." He confessed.
"Well, that won't do. You need a name. Otherwise, you will forget yourself completely." Her eyes were covered by the outer ring of her hat.
"Otto."
"Hm?"
"My name is Otto." He repeated.
"Otto. Well, you certainly have the class for a blood-drenched baron. Though your manners were probably brushed up in a squalor than a household." She nodded.
"Now lookee here, lass..." He seemed annoyed at her description. "Hm?" He looked down and his eyes widened slightly. "Ah, my Saw Cleaver." He knelt down and noticed it broken in two from her hit. "Must have been a hell of a swing." He deduced. She even dented the metal.
"No worries. As long as you aren't an adversary, I'll let you go."
"Oh, you'll let me will you?" He sounded like he was mocking her.
She then began walking past him and across the bridge. "I'll see you around, Buzzard." She teased on the way back. The Hunter narrowed his eyes at the strange woman. She seemed sane unlike most of the populace. "...what a cheeky lass you are, Briar." He bent down next to the lantern that was on the ground and little strange creatures popped out of the ground around it. Their faces were distorted, and their bodies were small and grey.
He bowed his head and his body began to fade into dust until his very being dissipated from the world. Around the corner, Briar turned back and saw him disappear. She then looked back and returned to the town. "He killed the Cleric Beast. He beat me to it." She smiled in defeat. "I wonder...where are you headed?" She smiled while heading back towards the area that was cleared by the Hunter before she arrived. She stopped to examine a few corpses that were Scourge Beasts.
"Looks like that cane was a trick weapon. He killed everything in one stroke nearly every time." She noted the fatal wounds that were exposed. She thought for a moment and then an amused stare made it to her eyes. She then looked down the stairs. "If I remember, the lamp should be over here." She left the area.
The Hunter's Dream...
The Hunter...or rather Otto now, awoke in a foggy cemetery, with a workshop perched in the center of it. Beautiful white flowers decorated the headstones of many hunters that came to pass. And sitting on the path leading up to the workshop building was a person, or rather a doll, wearing a dark brown poncho, and a black leather dress that matched. She also wore a long, red cloth fastened into a draping knot around her neck. A matching bonnet was also tied neatly over her head. While her face was of a young, beautiful woman, she seemed to lack any type of emotion that was distinguishable from a person to an object.
"Welcome home, dear Hunter." She greeted him normally as if she was expecting him.
"Hi there, Doll." Otto greeted. He walked up to her and stopped. "I killed a lot of beasts. Can you do that thing that you..?" He couldn't quite name what it was.
"Of course. Let the Echoes become your strength." She bowed. "Now shut your eyes, and stand close." She beckoned. Otto bent one knee and held out his hand, and he felt a reinvigorating feeling when she clasped his hand. Every time he went out and killed beasts, he returned and felt like his body was lighter, and stronger, bit by bit. Whatever means this doll had to give him strength, it was through these "Blood Echoes" he absorbed from the essence of the prey he slaughtered. While he was being empowered, he decided to ask.
"Doll."
"Yes, dear Hunter?"
"You said this place was a haven for hunters that dreamed. Correct?" He made sure before asking his question.
"Yes. As I said, the headstones are in honor of many hunters who sought refuge from the waking world." She answered as simply as she could. "Is there something that is questioning about this that you do not fully understand?" She wanted to give him details that would make it easier to understand.
"No, your explanation is perfect. It's just...I ran into a hunter before I came here." He mentioned. "She called herself Briar. Easy on the eyes, purple gaze, jet black hair. She was garbed like a hunter, with a black leather hat." He asked.
"Ah yes, she is the first hunter I've seen that has used this workshop, in a very long time." She recalled. "Though...she often refers to me as a...imitation. But, I do not know why. I...understand not what she meant." She sounded confused.
"Why didn't you say anything about her before?" He asked curiously.
"You did not ask. I'm sorry, should I have told you, dear Hunter?" She sounded a bit depressed in her tone.
"No no. You did nothing wrong, Doll." He assured her. He then opened his eyes, feeling like she finished. "If she uses the Hunter's Dream, why have I not seen her around?" He spent a great amount of time in this place, yet he found it odd why he never crossed paths with such a hunter.
"She comes and goes rather quickly. She leaves her weapons here to get fixed and immediately departs. I...tried to converse with her, but she did not wish to speak to me." The Doll held her hands together and stood upright. "Was there anything else that troubles you, dear Hunter?"
"No. I'm fine." He thanked.
"I see you have returned." A weak sounding voice coming from an old man in a wheelchair said. He wore simple, tattered clothes, and looked half the man he once was. He also seemed to be missing a leg, evident by the peg in its place.
"Yeah. Killed a nasty scourge beast the size of the damn shop." The Hunter scoffed. He just couldn't get a read on this old man.
"I...see. Then, are you still heading out?" He raised his lifeless eyes at Otto.
"Yes." He nodded.
"I hope your trip bears fruit then, hunter." His head sank back towards the ground.
"...hey, Gehrman? Who's that woman with the curved sword? It was like, uh...saber?" Otto asked him.
"Another Hunter I would think...seeking Pale Blood. She suddenly showed up here a little while before you did." He answered cryptically.
"Then what the hell is this Pale Blood? I've been out for weeks, and I see no sign, nor any clue as to point me in the right direction. Just give something I can use." Otto sounded impatient.
"Then...I suggest you head to Oeden Chapel. If you were to look around there, I'm sure something would point you in the right direction." He gave him a suggestion.
"(Sigh.) Whatever, I'll look around, but there's loads of beast folk around the area." He gave in and headed toward a headstone.
"Goodbye, dear Hunter. I hope you find that which you look for." The Doll saw him off as he knelt down.
"Goodbye, Doll." Otto said before he was no longer there. His body disappeared in the same fashion as when he used the lamp.
"You must seek it...Pale Blood." Gehrman looked up at the moon that encompassed the sky as if he were lost in its lunar grace.
Yharnam...
The Hunter awoke in front of a house that had incense near it, and behind him was a ladder that led up to this point. He stood up and used his cane for support. He adjusted his glasses and steeled himself for the next death.
"Ah, there you are." He turned to the voice of the woman hunter he met not too long ago. She was sitting against a building in front of the lantern with her legs crossed. Hiding her face with her hat.
"What do you want?" Otto was now on guard.
"I was waiting for you...Mmmm~." She let out out a groan as she stretched. She got to her feet and brushed off her sides.
"Sleeping on the streets ain't exactly wise 'round 'ere," Otto advised.
"I was simply resting my eyes, Buzzard." She took off her hat and long, flowing hair draped behind her. There was strands of it with silver, white showing over the left of the head. She walked up to Otto all prim and proper. "So, what's your plan now?"
"Well...I'm heading to Oeden Chapel."
"...want some company?" She offered.
"You wish to travel together?" He rested his hands on his cane.
"It becomes rather boring when the only things to converse with are frothing at the mouth, and are on all fours. But I think there is more advantage of traveling with a hunter that doesn't recite oaths, and blindly follows the Choir." She tilted her head with a smile.
"You wanna follow a tasteless fellow like myself?" He gazed into her purple eyes while conversing.
"Tasteless? Your tone is bittersweet. Quite frankly, the only one that does not speak in riddles or is enigmatic." She shrugged.
"Not much one with words." He looked away.
"Etiquette is what defines high class. You dress the part, but you don't really speak it." She giggled.
"I never said I was."
"Well, no matter. I shall follow you for now. Don't worry though, Buzzard. I'll take that handsome head of yours if you succumb to the blood." She promised as she put her hat back on.
"Was that a threat?" He was curious.
"A promise. Dying by a beautiful woman wouldn't be the worst way to go in this place, would it?"
"I'd sooner blow my head off. " He nodded.
"Not if I take it first. Or maybe I'll make you my dog. " She rubbed her finger down his chest suggestively. She then grabbed her saber and strapped it to her side. "Well, looking forward to your company, Otto." She held up her hand.
"...guess there are worse ways to go, Briar." He took her hand and they shook on it.
I hope that was a good start! Let me know what you think!
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