Bloodborn: Knight of Blood
My city of Yharnam lays in ruin. It's cityscape shrouded by a dark mist, both physically and metaphorically. From the top of the Astral Clocktower, I could see my once grand and thriving city now brought down by this cursed plague, tearing this city apart from the inside out. It's streets only filled with the sounds of screaming and the occasional glimpse of a moving shadow, tempting my curiosity of what could be down there. But my guess is that it's just another beast. Not a single man, woman or child that hasn't gone mad or changed beyond recognition could be seen. Only the sounds of death and despair filled the streets that I once called home. Fires burned, entire portions of the city went dark, and all accompanied by the constant feeling of being watched.
My name is Edward Hensworth. In my time, I was a guard, of what, I'm no longer certain. Time has passed, and my memories grow hazy, even as the city that contains them surrounds me and triggers my nostalgia. I awoke at the Astral Clocktower, not a few moments ago, where I saw my once beloved city in a state of such dismay. As I awoke, I found myself in a long black garb, with a charred cape reaching to the ground and a classy feathered hat. To my side was a massive blade, with a small trigger of sorts. When I picked it up, I began to recall. The hunt… The plague… Saint Ludwig… And my untimely death. I wasn't sure if the fight, but all I remember was the bright flash of deep blue that reminded me of the very cosmos itself. I held Saint Ludwig's blade in my hands. A trick weapon, as it were. The massive blade was a sheath for a smaller Longsword. When sheathed, the larger blade could make powerful impacts that required great strength, and when unsheathed, the Longsword could act as a fast and ferocious weapon, for wading deep through the blood of those savage creatures below…
But this is not the true blade of Saint Ludwig. Only a cheap mockery. Not nearly as powerful or as potent as the original. But it was as close as I could get to the firstl holy blade. Also beside me was a large but old pistol, it's rusted parts creaking when I held it. My coat contained a supply of vials of blood. I remembered them. I used them to heal myself when wounded. Though during that battle, I was sure I ran out…
I figured that waiting around at the top of this tower was going to get me nowhere. So I found myself a ladder and descended downwards, into the madness of the streets below. I exited through the main doorway, cringing at the stench of rot. Even as I first left the tower, I could see figures moving about the shadows, too cowardly to face me. Though one of them thought otherwise.
A massive beast crawled out from the gutter, a low growl and loud snarling following suit. It resembled a wolf, though it's form was mostly humanoid. It crawled on all fours, filthy claws jutting out of its hands and feet. It's blood-coated black fur glistened in the moonlight, halted by spots of corroded flesh and torn skin. Half of its face appeared to have been torn off, and it's jaw didn't close quite correctly. It looked at me with intense and angry eyes, yet behind those eyes I could see the pain of a man that once was.
I put my Longsword into its sheath and unhooked the massive blade from my back. As I gripped the blade with two hands and pointed it towards the Lycan, the beast snarled and scraped its claws against the stone pavement as to sharpen them. I held my composure and my ground, allowing the beast ample time to assess me. With a sharp bark, the Lycan charged, extending its long arm towards me as to slash me. Right as it came within range, it swung at me. I quickly ducked under its Attack and brought my blade upward and through its arm. It's limb flew off with a trail of blood, and the Lycan screamed, a trace of humanity left deep within. I took out my Longsword and slashed at its chest, only barely missing as the beast quickly leaped back.
I charged the Lycan with my blade, wildly and ferociously swinging it about, blood splashing onto my clothes and into the streets as I inflicted wound upon wound to it. The beast attempted a retaliation by trying to grab me, but a backstep and a great sword brought down onto his head proved it to be futile. The Lycan remained barely alive, weakly crawling towards me as blood trailed from its nearly lifeless body. I brought out my Longsword once more and slashed at its neck, ending its life. The beast croaked in pain, and it's corpse began to turn to dust, as all beasts so as they die. The wind blew away whatever might have remained of what once was a man.
Perhaps it may have been a peasant or a poor man. Perhaps a king, or a nobleman. Either way, it doesn't matter. Beasts are beasts, no matter their pasts. And the more quickly a hunter realizes it, the better