The Hunter's Last Moments
Artorias had just arrived at the Hunter's Dream, and the first thing he had noticed was the old church where Master Gehrman sat, was on fire. He ran towards the old and decrepit building, as planks of wood began to fall down around him as he tried to peer through the flames to find his mentor.
If he's in there, he's probably dead…
It was a horrid thought, but this was Yharnam, a city of blood and beasts, where plague and death mixed with the air to make the old, Gothic city seem like arena, with some abominable puppet-master holding the strings to every man, woman and child, waiting for the correct moment to cut them and watch as they fell into depression and despair as they tried to find away out of the cursed city.
Artorias had forgotten why he had even gone in the first place, was it the hunt calling him to join with his fellow hunters? Harmless curiosity? All he could remember was him lying in Iosefka's Clinic, with the old doctor and his saying his words like a poor and false reassurance. This will all just feel like a bad dream. He was wrong on so many levels, it was nowhere near as peaceful and harmless as a dream, it was a bloody nightmare, a bloody and violent nightmare where the beast hunt never ended, turning the inhabitants of the city into blood starved beasts and cosmic creations, where the human body was twisted and contorted into a state that would soon become unrecognisable.
"Good Hunter, the night is at an end. Now, I will show you mercy. I will grant you death, and you will leave the Hunter's Dream, and awake under the rising sun."
Artorias spun around, his scythe and sword in hand, glistening with blood and glinting under the moonlight. The old man in the wheelchair, Gehrman, had made it his life's goal to help fellow hunters throughout the nightmare that was the hunt.
"Master Gehrman, is there no other way that you can join me? Surely you have mentored enough Hunters to last until the next hunt?"
"I am deeply sorry Artorias, and I know how much you wish to repay this old hunter just because of some kind words. I would join you if I could, but I fear I have too many ghosts that stay within this nightmare. Until I can find a way to banish them, I will stay in the dream with the doll."
Artorias' heart sunk. It was more than just kind words that Gehrman had offered. Assistance in the form of of other hunters, who were ready to lend a hand in a moments notice, and the times where he would come back to the dream, where even the doll couldn't help, but Gehrman was always there, and now he was offering Artorias a way out of the dream, out of the nightmare, but he wouldn't not give it to himself. Artorias knelt down before the wheelchair, and watched as the old hunter brought out his own blade, one that was made to be wielded with two hands.
"Goodbye, Master Gehrman." Artorias managed to sputter out.
"Farewell, my keen and young hunter. I release you as a Hunter, experienced and ready, to be free until the next hunt. Always remember, fear the blood."
"Fear the blood."
Gehrman gave a small smile, and Artorias smiled in return. With the old formalities out of the way, Gehrman lifted the sword into the air, took a breath, and brought it back down. Artorias' head and body were separated as the fell down the small hill they stood on.
"Goodbye, good hunter."
Gehrman sheathed his sword, and placed the blade delicately against the oak tree that stood by his wheelchair. He looked at the moon, and thought of the time he had last set his eyes on the sun.
A hunter's last thoughts should be of home...
A/N: So, first one-shot. What did you think? Let me know if you want more one-shots or if you want me to do a proper story on something. Personally, I would like to do Game of Thrones or Marvel, but let me know what you want me to do, so rate and review!
~ The Italian Stallion ~