Hello everyone that is reading this very first chapter of "Blood to Hunters, Borne to Beginnings." I would just like to clarify that I thoroughly enjoyed Bloodborne and RWBY so I absolutely promise that I will not slaughter this. I'm starting this series since there is something missing from the Bloodborne/RWBY community in my eyes (Maybe because I haven't seen it yet), and that would be the NPC's/Bosses being covered in depth or with a nice tie in with RWBY including almost all of the weapons; like the Lagarius Wheel or The Pizza Cutter. The ones that I have read mostly mention either mostly dexterity weapons, or the powder keg weapons, and not any of the fun/stupid weapons. Most likely each of these chapters will either be one-shots or simply two to three chapters spread out. I hope you enjoy how I tie in Bloodborne to the RWBY universe.
I do not own either Bloodborne or RWBY except for the respective copies of their games.
"Borne to Beginnings"
There is a story that is looked upon as a fairy tale by the inhabitants of Remnant, it dates back thousands of years. The flourishing nature of Remnant is said to be tied directly to this story, but others take it to heart. It is but a simple tale, yet also a great one.
Deep in the forests of Remnant, beside a great and mighty river, stood the small, fragile home of a cold, frail man- a lone wizard.
Hidden from the dangers and distractions of the world, the wizard seldom had visitors. But on this day, as he peered out his window, his gaze fell upon a young maiden.
Calmly, she sat beneath his tree in a state of absolute tranquility. When the wizard demanded an explanation, the maiden simply replied, "My name is Winter. I am on a journey, and I am waiting for my sisters."
With that, she closed her eyes and sat in silence.
The wizard told himself the girl was a fool, but the longer she sat, the more he wished to share in the serenity the young maiden enjoyed. In time, he grew tired and decided to close his eyes as well, thinking on this strange predicament.
Upon opening his eyes, the wizard was befuddled to find that a second maiden appeared beneath his tree, cheerful and spry, with a basket of fruit and flowers.
When he asked for an explanation, the girl simply replied,
"My name is Spring. I am on a journey, and I am waiting for my sisters."
To show her gratitude for his reluctant hospitality, the girl retrieved a handful of seeds from her basket and planted them in the wizard's garden.
The old hermit could hardly believe his eyes as the maiden turned what was once a mere pile of dirt and manure into a beautiful garden, from which life would surely blossom.
It's likely he would have gazed for hours, were it not for the unfamiliar laughter he heard from beneath his tree.
A young woman with a warm smile now stood beside the two maidens.
The wizard begged her to introduce herself, to which she happily responded,
"My name is Summer. I am on a journey, and I am waiting for my sister."
"Of course," thought the wizard. But another chirp of laughter left the old man perplexed.
What in the world was so funny?
As it turned out, it was him. The new arrival found the wizard's insistence on staying indoors so very amusing.
Why choose to view the world through a small window when the door leading out to it was right at his side?
It was a compelling argument. And after only a moment of brief hesitation, the wizard left his home -
- and stepped outside.
The warmth of the sun brought with it a surge of energy and life, and soon the wizard wasn't feeling much like himself anymore.
He was feeling much better.
As the day drew to a close, the maidens and the wizard all settled down and prepared a feast. Winter set the table. Spring supplied the crops, Summer prepped the meal, and the wizard was the happiest he'd been in ages.
But in all the excitement, he nearly failed to notice the delicate woman that now stood beneath his tree.
He smiled, and beckoned her to join them, asking only for her name.
"My name is Fall," she replied softly. "I am on a journey, and am here to meet my sisters. Who are you?"
"Me?", the wizard wondered. "Well, I am but an old hermit - I have lived in these woods alone for centuries and I'm afraid my story is not very interesting, as I have no one to love and nothing to my name."
The elder sister looked up at all that surrounded them.
"But sir, do you not see? You have so much."
It was true. With their help, it was now clear to see that the wizard had everything he could ever need. He was grateful, but a question lingered in his mind.
"Why me?", he asked. "Why did the four of you choose to open my eyes? To share with me your gifts? Why am I so special?"
The four sisters looked to one another, perplexed. Finally, the eldest spoke.
"I beg your pardon sir, but we did not do these things for you because you were special. We do what we can for everyone, because we are able."
The old wizard was at a loss. Never in his years had he come across such kindness. It was in that moment that he knew what should be done.
The wizard summoned his magic, every ounce he could muster, and bestowed it upon
the sisters.
He smiled. "Take this gift, and know now that you are able to do so much more."
Now armed with the elements, the very powers of nature, and the unimaginable magic of the wizard, the four maidens, Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall, promised to carry on with their journey, using their gifts to aid others, just as they aided him.
One by one, the sisters left. Before they did, they made one final promise.
They promised to return each and every year, to visit their dear friend.
It is said by those that take this story to heart that the power of the maidens is real, while others push it to the side as a simple fairy tale to entertain children. One missing element is always forgotten when the maidens are brought up; not if they're real and where are they, but a rather simple one that is there from the very start.
Where is the Hermit Wizard now, and what is he currently doing without his magic?
Moonlight shone down of the field of white flowers, and next to it a simple workshop surrounded by countless tombstones and a multitude of bushes which adorned multiple plants of variety for the eye to see. In front of the stairs that lead into the building sat a pale doll dressed in what seemed to be a spare dress.
A deep love for the doll can be surmised by the fine craftsmanship of this article, and the care with which it was kept. It borderlines on maina, and exudes a slight warmth to the eye.
The doll seemed to be lifeless as it lay on the small ledge; its eyes closed and no form of movement seemed to have occurred for hundreds of years.
Pass the doll up the steps, flowed from the ground small little figures came from an almost spectral mist that was surrounded by small bones that shared the same color.
Three 'clumps' of them you could say congregated in front of the door to the workshop as if to gift a visitor with something. The door was wide open for anyone to enter, and inside was something out of fantasy books. A fireplace and multiple candles lit the room up much more than one would think. Papers lined the floor leaving an almost coincidental path through the center of the workshop. Books lined the shelves that they rested on, and even more sat on the short tables that were scattered inside, some open with candles resting next to them while others stacked atop one another with a lantern sitting next to it. The style of the book cases seemed like that of an old style that carried onto this workshops style. Many of the books had their titles faded out to where one could hardly read them.
Titles of the one that you could read were quite alike in terms.
"How to Fight the Beasts of the Nightmare One" and many more that followed up around seventy sequels to the single series. "Trick Weapons and their Handling", "Trick Weapons and their Repair", "Firearms and the use of gunpowder along with Silver Bullets."
Many of the books had to do with either weapons or the survival, but one would think what is there to survive against if there is nothing around here?
One of the many workbenches had a lantern sitting upon it, and next to it a contraption like that of a blunderbuss from old times. Multiple clear vials held strange powders inside of them ranging from black, grey, orange, or white; each one made to fit its own purpose. Scattered around the floor of the workbench and upon it as well lied many black vials that contained what seemed to be a sort of gunpowder, which made it strange since there were many kinds of black vials. All of them sealed tightly just in case of their possible use in the future. Finally, the last many things on the table were the multitude of tools that ranged from different sizes to completely different looking shapes. Each one possibly having a use in either the upgrade of the blunderbuss that lay there or even the repair of it.
Next to the workbench that seemed for firearms, a fireplace was brightly lit and gave off an appealing warmth that would easily bring back a visitor once more, no matter how many times it was either.
To the right of the fireplace was a multitude of cabinets and the vials that were contained inside as well. Next to the cabinet was a host of multicolored vials that dressed the wall with color along with a single lantern that hung in the center of them all. Right below the many-colored vials sat a dark colored coffin with a strange emblem that adorned the front of it, inside of it was stacks of bullets with a shine of silver upon them and next to it was a collection of red vials with a light brown cork atop each one. Next to that lied a simple looking cleaver with the head of a saw that was folded up for what seemed to be storage for another time. Along the blade looked like not rust on an old weapon, but rather dried blood that was never washed off not because of laziness, but rather the amount that was on there was always too much, and the user never had enough time to clean it all off. Laying atop of the saw cleaver was a simple looking cane that held a simple design to it along with a small button that sat at the top of the cane, and the intricate design that fell down the shaft of the cane.
Across from the fireplace sat a small end table with a small but simply and effective silver tea set, but no tea sat inside the cup as there has been no visitor for quite a long time. Small designs lined the silverware like it belonged to a past aristocrat and it was given to the owner as a gift.
To the left of the tea set sat another end table, but upon it sat an open notebook with a stack of books next to it. An empty ink vial sat there with a quill placed inside it, not as if the ink dried up, but rather it was all used writing within the notebook that sat next to it. Clean and crisp writing lined the pages talking about not only beasts some of those have never heard of but also of the sights the author wrote about as well. Many of them included what seemed to be their teacher as it is mentioned quite often since they seemed to be quite skilled in whatever profession that they followed in.
At the end of the workshop sat an alter with many candles both lit and unlit upon it and they rested inside of well designed, silver holders, and many papers that lie before it as well. Upon the alter sat a small bloodied rag as if a sort of sacrifice was done upon the alter. A color faded goblet sat next to the rag and next to it sat a wooden bowl that contained dried blood on the inside.
Behind the altar was probably one of the strangest things inside the alter; a statue of a saddened maiden stood with candles right in front of her and books surrounding her sides.
Cobwebs hung throughout the ceiling of the room and torn sheets were draped as well. Everything that rested inside and outside of the workshop seemed to be much older than it appeared, even than it was still old by the look.
An old man sat out in the open in front of one of the tombstones outside. He was clothed by what looked like everyday clothing, but small adjustments were made here and there, and it looked as if it was produced for many to wear. The look had an emphasis on engaging beasts with speed, and therefore of selecting lightweight attire, no doubt traces back to the very first who created such techniques.
A white beard adorned his face, and a sad look traced it as well as his hand traced the tombstone. The writing upon it was hardly recognizable and had seem to be long forgotten. He wheeled backwards in the wheelchair he was currently sitting in and began to make his way towards the field of flowers that sat in the back of the area he was in.
A small rustling sound was made behind him, and he slowly turned around only to see something out of place.
A woman cloaked in white, with red tints exposed on her long flowing black hair. Her silver eyes seemed to reflect the moonlight as she stared up into the sky. The old man tilted his head as he stared towards the young woman. A quick thought traced his mind.
'No one should be able to enter the dream without certain prerequisites, even then they look less surprised then this young woman.'
He rolled towards her and got her attention by reaching out his lanky arm towards her. It reached her arm and she pulled it back while she quickly turned towards the old man. A face of confusion, yet relief came across from her. She fell onto her rump and the hard-rocky ground as she sighed.
"May I know of your name Hunter?" The old man asked.
She looked up towards him now with sadness in her eyes. Something he longed to see, not out of spite, but rather out of loneliness all these years, and he was simply joyed to see another.
"My name is Summer, Summer Rose. Former Huntress."
Everything built itself up and collapsed in an instant for the old man. 'Summer' thought the old man. He hadn't heard that name in ages, and yet here is someone with the same name. He chuckled softly and turned his wheel chair around and began to stroll off towards the workshop. He knew inside that the two were simply not the same, but that meant little to him now. He not only had company, but another apprentice to take on ever since the last one left him as well.
"Come now Summer Rose. I take it you've never had a true 'Nightmare' up to this point? Well no bother; this will be something for both of us to benefit from."
The old man knew that she was lost, and saddened that she left behind. So, he could only gain the gift he once had from the other 'Summer', and that is the ability to go outside into the sun awake, and he would do so with his new apprentice.
This old hermit may have lost all his gifts that he previously received from the sisters, and the magic that once existed inside of him; but his name remained the same after all these years.
Gehrman the First Hunter will join the hunt again once more.
First things first, I really hope you all enjoyed reading this. I put plenty of detail and accuracy into describing the workshop from the dream. I didn't go into much detail around the workshop since I hardly ever walked around since I never found a use for it the many times I ran through the game. If you would kindly give me some helpful advice, and or criticism, or hey, even a complement, I would greatly appreciate it. I would also greatly approve of any questions some of you might have. Professor Pancakes is resigning for this evening.