Happy Halloween everyone! Here's the next chapter of Waking Worlds Worth! Because thematic appropriateness!
Wait...what? It's day's after Haloween? WAT? Well that's stupid! What's been wasting my time? *See's Dark Souls on switch, Read Dead Redemption 2 and replaying Witcher 3*
AGGHH! Fine! I'll give you a special chapter today. One that's both revealing and...spoooooooookaaaaaay! OOOOOOOOooOOOooOOoooOOOooOOOoOoooOOoOoOoOoOoHHHHHHH!
Don't own nothing. Not Bloodborne, not LOZ, and definitely not the Witcher and Erutan.(You'll see why I said that in a bit). I'll say this repetitive phrase till day I DIE! MWAHAHAHAHA
Neema Amiry: Is it though? IS IT?
Axccel: Thanks for the kind words! I always felt that Humans and Hylians were separate, and Hylians were more elvish than humans. I didn't know that they general were the same species. But I'm keeping them separate species for more dramatic effect and for the planned story. I also didn't know that about Rakuyo. But...eh. It's a fanfic.
Kill King: Coming right up!
Guestman123 (Guest): Why of course! I got plenty planned for this good hunter, some good and some bad. But plenty of blood is gonna be spilled.
thetyrant67: Thanks for admitting the obvious that this story is only mediocre at best (Ohmigod did that sound mean crap I'm sorry). I do understand what your saying though. I can't make any promises, but I'll try.
Note: Italics: Singing
Bold Italics: Ghostly voice
Underline: The Doll
Bold: Mysterious Voice
"...Beasts all over the shop... You'll be one of them, sooner or later..."
"What's that smell? ... The sweet blood, oh, it sings to me. It's enough to make a man sick"
The hunter sighed as he wiped the Rakuyo clean of blood. The numerous bodies of the beasts known as Bokoblins and Moblins were no match for a hunter of his caliber. He sighed not in relief, but of disappointment. These beasts were unworthy to be called that, beasts. What was annoying was the fact that some of them did not fall over as a corpse should. Instead, some fell like the Hinox in the cave and com-busted into a purple mist. Was that the work of a great one, perhaps? This land, he was still not unconvinced that this was reality and not a dream or nightmare. It seemed to foreign yet familiar at the same time. Many times he walked over some patch of land and he felt a form of...connection to it. It bothered him to no end.
But that mattered little in the current moment. He was tired of these beasts that he had just fought in the moment. He returned his ragcloth to his pockets and held his bade in his hand. It seemed to be growing dull, perhaps repairs where in order. A trip back to the dream was now needed. All he now had to do was find a decent spot. He rose from his crouched position and began to walk through the forest. The evening sun was beginning to set and the wildlife began to crawl back from their hiding spots. The carnage that had recently happened was now over, it's results being left behind. He heard the birds begin to chirp and the other animals begin to run and move and prepare for nightfall. The insects began to chirp and skitter all about.
He both loved and hated this noise.
On the one hand, it was not the silenced he usually heard in Yharnam. That silence, at times, was unbearable and was either cut quickly with screams of rage or pain or whatever noise, or it lasted forever and haunted the young hunter. These new noises allowed a feeling of...peace to enter his body. Or whatever he could call peace. However, the ambient noise could distract him, cover up an ambush and dull his senses, or it could create more paranoia.
But it mattered little to the good hunter, as he wished only to find a spot to return to the dream. He did so, after several minutes of walking. Dusk was at it's midpoint when he found a road, with it's own sign. He gazed up at the road-sign, pointing in two directions.
West: Hyrule Castle
East: Zora's Domain
North: Malon Village
He did not wish to travel to the Castle just yet, he feared that his actions at the small town may have spread word. Zora's domain he did not wish to travel too yet, for he wished to rest before seeing more of these Zora and the other races, namely the Rito and Gorons. With that, he decided to go to the Malon Village. But he had to return to the dream first, there was affairs to be put in order. Kneeling down to the small cobble, he pulled out a sheet of paper. Taking a charcoal pen, he scribbled down the Hunter's Mark and placed it onto the ground. Near instantaneously, the paper melted into the dirt and a lamp post appeared. The messengers, the grotesque and kind servants to the hunter, then burrowed from the ground and held the lamp still as the Hunter lit it with a snap of his fingers. The tiny light seemed to warm the small creatures, who huddled around it for a sense of warmth. The hunter then knelt down and touched the Lamp. He felt his eyes go heavy and he allowed himself to fall...
XXX
...only to awake in the hunter's dream. The shack had not changed from his hunt. The only differences were the lack of the travel graves being marked with the locations he desired to go to. The messengers began to notice him and call out in great happiness at seeing the hunter return. The bath, filled with more messengers, began to lift up items in which they would exchange for the blood echoes of those he had slain. He smiled at these beings, before moving aside. He walked up the hill to his lift, past the bath and many graves and entered the house from the side entrance. The workshop was a small building, with furniture being somewhat lacking. Everything in the small shack had a purpose to it. He opened the great chest and removed the Rakuyo from his person. The chest was, somehow, bottomless so he need not worry on losing items. They could alway's be retrieved at a later date by simply opening the box and wishing for what you needed. As he placed the blade back in the box, he grabbed out the collapsed form of the Burial Blade. The old scythe was the first trick weapon, and still proved to be superior to many of it's descendants in a multitude of then put both handle and blade on his back, and grabbed his Eveyln. One last thing to do, before returning to the waking world. He exited the old workshop, and went in search of the Doll. He found her cleaning a grave stone, in the garden that she had recently added in memory of Gehrman. She noticed him approaching and she stood. "Welcome home, good hunter. What is it you desire?"
"I am just visiting." The hunter spoke. His voice not carrying any of the stresses from before. "I hope nothing has happened to you?"
"Only the wind blew." The doll responded, her voice calm. The Hunter then extended his arm to her, inviting her for a walk and tea. She took it, and gently held his hand as the walked through the dream to the workshop and she heard the Hunter's woes. He would do this to calm his nerves, to ease his worries. They sat at the only table in the dream and poured cups of tea for each other. The tea was alway's hot. The hunter had learned to not question the quirks and queer details of the dream, only to accept them as small gifts. "Have you been hurt in your travels, Good Hunter?" The doll asked as she sipped her tea. It was strange that she was able to drink liquid, considering that she was a doll, but the Hunter again did not question.
"Nothing I could not handle." He replied, his voice soft. He looked out of the doorway and to the sky, in silence. "The land is beautiful, quiet. I have seen many places and peoples that have astounded me. From those who liken to humans to the strange and bizarre. Yet they are sentient, and that is what worries me." The doll tilted her head in questioning. "I worry that these people will one day find the Old Blood or something similar. Perhaps they may discover the mysterious of the Great Ones. Or they may perhaps wage war upon themselves and destroy the waking world. But what troubles me most is the connection I feel to this land, as if I have seen it before."
He looked at the doll's worried face. "Forgive me, my friend. Only the worries of a man who has seen to much."
"No, good Hunter. You have cause to worry." She then took his hand in a gentle grip. "But I will alway's listen."
The Hunter smiled.
Malon Village was a large town. Not big enough to be a city but widespread enough to not be a hamlet. The Hunter was cautious to not touch anyone, as he feared his reflex's might make him accidentally behead someone. He kept his weapon, the Burial Blade, hidden underneath a long cloak he wore that wrapped all around him. He would rather not have someone question why he wore rags, but the Harrowed Garb was no mere set of beggar's clothing. Rather, the tunic was highly durable and was the attire of the Healing Church's spies.
He entered the Inn. As soon as he stepped through those doors, he was blasted by a combination of heat, laughter and music. It seemed that most of the entire town was joined together for some form of festivities. He could see numerous people cheering together and drinking, in the corner he saw a band play loud and celebratory music. The middle of the entire building was occupied by 4 dancers in rhythm, dancing to the music. He made his way to a corner table, as he preferred to be alone. Once sat down, he waited for a waitress to come and serve him. He did not have to wait long, as a woman with blonde hair and attire befitting for a waitress came to him. "Hi there! Anything I could get you?"
"Water. And stew if you have some."
"Coming right up!" She said with a cheery voice. As she hopped away to get his order, the Hunter took part in watching the music. The band seemed skilled, and their music was infectious.
A young man walked through the forest
With his quiver and hunting bow
He heard a young girl singing
And followed the sound below
There he found the maiden
Who lives in the willow
He called to her as she listened
From a ring of toadstools red
"Come with me, my maiden
Come from thy willow bed"
She looked at him serenely
And only shook her head
"See me now
A ray of light in the moondance
See me now
I cannot leave this place
Hear me now
A strain of song in the forest
Don't ask me
To follow where you lead"
A young man walked through the forest
With a flower and coat of green
His love had hair like fire
Her eyes an emerald sheen
She wrapped herself in beauty
So young and so serene
He stood there under the willow
And he gave her the yellow bloom
"Girl, my heart you've captured
Oh, I would be your groom"
She said she'd wed him never
Not near, nor far, nor soon
A young man walked through the forest
With an axe sharp as a knife
"I'll take the green-eyed fairy
And she shall be my wife
With her I'll raise my children
With her I'll live my life"
The maiden wept when she heard him
When he said he'd set her free
He took his axe and used it
To bring down her ancient tree
"Now your willow's fallen
Now you belong to me"
She followed him out the forest
And collapsed upon the earth
Her feet had walked but a distance
From the green land of her birth
She faded into a flower
That would bloom for one bright eve
He could not take from the forest
What was never meant to leave
"Here's your meal sir!" The waitress had returned with his meal. The hunter thanked the waitress and gave her the price of 15 rupees. He had recently came across a large sum of rupees, 200 in fact, from a bokoblin camp. He thought it was somewhat fitting actually.
As the girl turned to leave, the hunter spoke up. "What is the celebration about?"
"You must be a traveler sir. It's harvest festival!" With that, she went to serve the others. The Hunter hummed, memories flooding back to him, memories of better times. He banished them all before watching the crowd dance.
XXX
The morning fog crept in quickly when the Hunter awoke. He had managed to rent a bed, and had woken up early to get on the move. Sleep was a rarity on the hunt, as it usually meant that you could be safe for about 30 minutes. He was not yet used to the freedom he now had to sleep whenever he desired. He left the inn and began to wonder the cobble-paved streets. The morning sun had begun to rise, but no soul was out on the streets. No soul, nay one man. This man was old, in rags and seemed frightened. The Hunter cared little for this man's problem, and he began to walk towards the gates. "Sir...Sir!" The man began to hobble towards him. The Hunter paid him no mind. "Sir, please listen to me! I need your help! I need someone's help!"
"Bother someone else old man."
"But sir! I-" The man coughed violently and fell to the ground. The Hunter stood there, watching the man begin to hack his lungs out. Slowly, he crouched down. "What ail's you?"
"Oh...nothing but old age I'm afraid." The man then wiped his mouth of slobber and blood. "Sir, please listen to an old man's words! It will take you no time at all."
"...Make it quick."
"Oh bless ye, thank you sir!" The man clapped his hands together in thankfulness, then stood up with the hunter. "You'd probably not believe me, but nearby there's a cursed town! Been cursed for as long as I can remember. Voices and ghosts and all that. Me daughter left for the town recently, thought that the tales were just that, and she never came back. That was 3 weeks ago."
The hunter looked on in silence, before asking "And what does that have to do with me?"
"Please sir, rescue her! I'll give you whatever you want! Just find her!" The man was on his knees now, begging the stranger in the hat and cloak. The Hunter considered his options. He didn't know whether this old man was either telling the truth or delusional. He rambled and spat like a madman, and his appearances enforced this belief. It may be possible that he was fabricating this story, and would attempt to entrap the hunter in this ghost town and kill him. But there was the fear in this man's eyes, and the desperation in his voice. He may be telling the truth.
The Hunter sighed to himself, a Hunter's duty was never done. "...Where is this town?"
"Bless ye sir! Bless ya!" The man gave the Hunter directions. Take the path to the left out of the gates and go through the creek. Then go onto the branch path and follow it. Then he would arrive. The hunter then walked out the gates and took the left as instructed. "Sir!" The man called out. The Hunter looked at him. "Be careful. The spirits...they don't like ta be disturbed." The hunter nodded and left.
XXX
The walk was a short one, as expected. The hunter savored it though, as it allowed him to clear his mind. Holding his blade close, he spotted the gates of the haunted village. It was a meager 6 buildings, all in one circle. In the middle was a well, that seemed to drop down forever. He kept his eyes open, cautious for any sign of a beast or specter.
"No Fair! Give It back!" The Hunter turned quickly, ready to strike. Nothing was there, the voice he had just heard was not real. It may have been carried by the wind, or worse. The hunter transformed his weapon, now holding a scythe. He then took steps toward one of the houses, when he stopped. A blood stain was on the ground. Old, but seemingly new at the same time. He saw something like these before, back in Yharnam. He bent down, and touched the blood.
"That's my ball!" The hunter saw three specters begin to take shape from the wind. All were male, yet one of them was smaller and sickly. "No it's not anymore! It's ours now!"
"Give. It. Back!" the smaller boy lunged for his ball, but was smacked down by one of the others. The specter gasped for air and coughed up blood on the ground, while the two boy's laughed. "Look at him! He's too weak to even get up! Guess that's why he's a whore-brother!"
"Take...that back!"
"Whore brother! Whore Brother!" The two ghost boy's then ran away, leaving the sick child to cry on the ground, helpless. The illusion vanished, leaving no trace behind. The Hunter stood still, as he contemplated what he saw. What was this? Was it a memory of sort, or was it an actual ghost? That, and why did he feel that he...knew the sick child? It was of no importance, he mused to himself, he must continue and find the old man's daughter. The Hunter moved through the town and spotted another blood-stain. It was next to a stump, long dead. He dipped his fingers into it and the wind howled. He could see a mist begin to take shape, and it was now into two forms. The boy from earlier, and a new man. He had a stagger in his step, and looked to be ragged. Yet he smiled as he pushed the boy up and down a swing hanging off of a large oak tree.
"Push me uncle! More! More!" The boy cried in joy and the Uncle laughed.
"Slow down, nephew! I can hardly keep me arm's on!" The swing then slowly went into a halt and the boy hopped off. He seemed happier, his weak body not as crippled as before.
"Ya act just like yer pa, you know? Shame he got himself offed in that tavern, he would've loved to see ya." The boy paid little attention as he hopped and skipped away. The uncle sighing to himself before following, making sure that his nephew did not fall or get injured. The Hunter stared at the stump when the figures passed. That stump...he was saddened by it. Why was he saddened by it though? It was just a stump, nothing more. Let the past die.
He decided to investigate the largest building, most likely a tavern. He was correct in his assumption, as there was tables and chair and other like pieces scattered about the desolate building. The roof had long collapsed inside itself, but he was able to step over it. He spotted another blood stain. He then bent down to pick it up, and the wind began to blow. He saw leaves twirl in the currents of air, before smoke and steam began to mold itself into shape. The tavern was now populated by an entire armada of ghosts. Yet they did not seem to notice him. The hunter's suspicions were confirmed, this seemed to be a form of memory relapse or something. The specters laughed and drank among-st themselves, as if they had nothing to care about.
The Hunter walked through the crowd, looking for someone. He did find this boy, as he had seen in the other specters. The boy was surrounded by a large family, 6 other siblings in fact. He was the second oldest, and he seemed to be taking care of them. He did not have his uncle around, as the Hunter saw him getting drunk. The Hunter saw his elder sister as well, a beautiful woman bordering adolescence and adulthood.
She whispered something to another man, something around the lines of "Not now. I'll be with you shortly. We still have to talk about pay."
The ghosts seemed to be waiting for someone to enter the stage, and someone did enter. The entire ghostly crowd cheered and clapped for the newcomer. The woman was reaching middle age, her step had no spring to it and she seemed to be sick just like her son. But her eyes held a power within. She cleared her throat, and song spilled out.
These scars long have yearned for your tender caress
To bind our fortunes, damn what the stars own
Rend my heart open, then your love profess
A winding, weaving fate to which we both atone
You flee my dream come the morning
Your scent - berries tart, lilac sweet
To dream of raven locks entwisted, stormy
Of violet eyes, glistening as you weep
The wolf I will follow into the storm
To find your heart, it's passion displaced
By ire ever growing, hardening into stone
Amidst the cold to hold you in a heated embrace
You flee my dream come the morning
Your scent - berries tart, lilac sweet
To dream of raven locks entwisted, stormy
Of violet eyes, glistening as you weep
I know not if fate would have us live as one
Or if by love's blind chance we've been bound
The wish I whispered, when it all began
Did it forge a love you might never have found?
You flee my dream come the morning
Your scent - berries tart, lilac sweet
To dream of raven locks entwisted, stormy
Of violet eyes, glistening as you weep
The Hunter watched as the audience sat in silence as she finished her song. He spotted a few in tear's even, and a couple embracing as well. Soon, applause began to erupt from the specters and she took a bow. The specters began to fade away and the Hunter felt a tear fall as well. Why was this? What was happening? Why did he feel like he knew that woman? Who was this child? Why did he seem to be the subject of these memories? The Hunter needed to know. As the man left the bar, he felt the wind pick up. The howls began to roar and moan under the dark cloudy day. This was no specter apparition, this was something else. The source of these spirits perhaps?
"You...are not welcome here..." As soon as the voice spoke, skeletal hands erupted from the ground. As the Stalkin hissed and moaned, the ghostly essence that spoke fled into the well. Curious. But there would be time for that later, he had a job to do. The Hunter readied his scythe for the first enemy to come for him, there were 5. One did begin to charge, and it crumbled into dust almost immediately when the Hunter lunged for it as well. Twirling the Burial Blade, he chopped one in half before stepping out of the way of another's blade. He forced it closer to him by the blade of the scythe, and then bisected it. He then de-stransformed it back into a curved sword just in block the last one's attack and then stepped to his side and swung. As he walked away, the skeleton fell to pieces.
This took him 3 seconds.
Pitiful, these skeletons were. They were just like the other creatures in this world. But he cared little for that right now, he had other things to worry for. The Well seemed to drop down forever, the hole was consumed by darkness. But the essences went in, and he assumed that whatever cursed this town would be down there. Besides, if he died from the fall (which was unlikely) then he was simply re-awake and find another way to end this curse and find the old man's daughter. So he took the plunge. With blade at the ready and Evelyn at his hip, he leaped over the cobble pit and fell into the darkness...
He did not have to fall long, for he soon felt the crunching of dirt and leaf. Seemed that the well was not an endless abyss. In fact, it contained a torchlight path. He followed it, certain of it's destination. He did not walk long. Along the way he fought more and more of these Stalkin and undead monsters, and all were pitiful. Well, except the dark knight he fought before reaching the large duel. That was a worthy battle, pity he found it's weak point far to quickly. In a way, that Darknut monster was very similar to the Fallen executioner's of Yharnam. After all, the two shared a similar dark appearance. But that was neither here nor there.
He soon had reached a large door. This door was smothered in bloody messages and prints. 'Turn Back'. 'Witch'. 'Vile creature.' were some of the more prominent writings. But the Hunter cared little for these warnings. He had fought much worse than a 'witch'. He pushed open the door, ever so reminding him of his time in the Chalice Dungeons, and was beholden to a magnificent sight. A large cavern, with a singular hole for light. The dripping of the drops into puddles did not mute the tune being sung by a young woman. She was in rags and seemed to not hear him, but this woman bore resemblance to the daughter he was sent to find. The tune was slow, melodramatic and sensual at once.
"A beautiful song. Your voice is lovely." The Hunter spoke. The woman turned quickly, with a sudden surprise on her face.
"Finally! My father sent someone to rescue me!" She ran towards him, stopping to grab his hand. "Come! I know the way out. I promise you that your reward will be great!"
"..." The woman looked at the hunter in questioning. Why was this man not following her. Then it dawned on her. "Oh...you want a reward now...Well, I suppose for someone who had to go to great lengths to slay all those nasty stalkin and that dreadful Darknut would want a...reward." She said with a smirk, and she began to disrobe. The Hunter did not react to her sudden nudity, and she clasped his face sensually. "...Well?" She teased.
"Why did you kill her?"
"...I'm sorry?"
"The corpse. The one you were standing above singing. Ease to see now." The woman then turned to look at her previous spot. A body, looking just like her, was already rotting. Sighing to herself, she turned away from the Hunter and smiled. "Your a clever one." She then snapped her fingers and, from out of a purple mist, robes befitting a sorceress covered her. In her hand was a staff, and she now wore some sort of mask. "My name is Cia, if that's what you were wondering. I suppose you came to find her? That her father asked you too."
"Yes, he was desperate."
"Of course he would be. But I'm afraid that he'll be desperate no longer soon enough." She swirled to face the cloudy sky, the time was evening. "I have been trapped her for many years, ever since the folk burned down my tower and imprisoned me in this cave all that time ago for trying to 'Conquer the world' and doing my 'twisted experiments' on those who I 'Kidnapped and enslaved'". She made quotations marks with her hands. "But I'm making my comeback." She then turned to the Good Hunter. "Those people in that village are the same one's who locked me away, and that old man was the one who sent his daughter here to make sure I hadn't escaped. It was honestly his fault that she's dead." She edged closer to him. "I have a desire for revenge, and I need a champion. A strong, powerful, handsome champion..." She lifted his chin with her finger as she stood ever so close to him. "You fit the bill with full marks. Become my champion and serve my will, and have every desire of your's granted. Riches, women and power would be yours for the taking. Even me..."
"..."
"Or you could refuse and stand with those fools." She began to walk away, and began to charge up magic in her hand. "And you'll see just how powerful I really am." She looked at the hunter over her shoulder, who had yet to draw his scythe. "Make your choice."
"Those specters...what did you do?"
"I'm sorry, what?" She then realized what he was speaking of. "Oh yes, that! Well, this town was cursed years before I even came here. Thought it might help me gather up more magic. Turn's out that something caused the memories of this town to loop, and people will see thing's that somehow relate to them."
"And the girl? What did you do to her?"
"Well, I can't just take my revenge and look like an old Hag! Had to suck up her soul, restore my power, that sort of thing."
"Then I know my choice." He drew the Burial Blade and held the Evelyn straight at her. "You are no better than a beast." He fired. Cia barely had enough time to block the quicksilver bullet with a magic shield before the Hunter went for her. Drawing her scepter, she cast another shield spell when the hunter slashed at her. The Siderite blade was able to shatter her spell, but it was not enough to faze her.
Brandishing her scepter, she cast dark energy at the hunter. He was able to roll away from the blasts, and fired another bullet. She was prepared for it, and blocked it with a twirl of her scepter. The hunter then charged, slashing several times at the witch with incredible strength. She was cut by one of these blows, the rest she avoided. Growling, she sent him crashing into a wall with a blast of dark Hunter got up and injected one of his blood vials.
He then transformed the curved sword into a scythe, and held it aloft. Cia was puzzled at this, she had never seen a weapon like this nor a man with the temperament and silence like this one. His eyes, she noted, were almost like voids. They felt nothing for her, only wishing for the witch's death. That was something she could not allow. The Hunter dodged and weaved his away from several of her magical attacks, and went in close. He slashed her several times with the blade, and dodged away from a large blast she sent from her person. She seethed in anger as she increased the velocity and power of her attacks! She would not allow a mere mortal to defeat her!
The Hunter was then blasted away by a stray large ball of energy that he had failed to notice. Pleased with herself, Cia began to cast a spell. The Hunter forced himself up and he popped several blood vials until he had his health returned. Cia's attacks were easy to avoid, but hit hard and nearly killed him each time. He watched in astonishment as Cia began to rise off of the ground, and in a massive explosion of power, she began to launch lightning at him.
He rolled and twisted out of the way, doing his best to avoid the lightning blasts. He managed to dodge several, but one blast landed straight into his chest and he roared in pain and was knocked to the ground. Cia laughed and began to cast more spells. The hunter forced himself out of the way before using 5 blood vials to heal himself.
He had underestimated Cia, he would not do it again.
Holding so tightly to the Burial Blade that he felt his nails cut his skin from under his gloves, he charged at Cia. Sidestepping spells and rolling away from massive blasts of dark power, he leaped at her and brought down the scythe, creating a massive cut across her chest and sending her flying. She landed onto the wall, and fell to the ground in a gasp. The Hunter took no chances, he went for the kill. As he was about to bring the scythe down and end the witch, she was able to cast a freezing spell. The Hunter was trapped, unable to move! Cia then grasped his head and cast a spell, shouting "Let's see what's going on in that head!"
She regretted it immediately.
Se ek Paleblo od to transcend th e hunt
Behold! A Paleblood sky!
Ah, Kos. Or some say Kosm. Do you hea r our praye rs?
A hu nter must hu nt...
My tru e mentor...M y guidi ng Mo on lig ht t...
A corpse...should be left well alone
Ha ha haha hah a!
Get out of my head.
Cia screamed as she returned to reality, stepping away from this...monster. No, he was more...he was less..what was he? She would never find out, for the Hunter raised his scythe. As she cried out for mercy, the hunter ended her life. A swift cut, and her head was sent flying. As soon as the head of a horrified Cia landed on the ground, her body began to twist and convulse in a monstrous manner before exploding in pure light. Nothing was left of her.
The Hunter fell to his knee's. Exhausted. He had grown rusty, and had nearly paid the price for it. If she was allowed to escape, then there was no manner of horrors she could unleash on the world. The Hunter then forced himself onto his feet and popped a final blood vial. Then, he turned and left for the way he came.
The walk was not long, and as soon as he climbed out of the hole did he spot another bloodstain. The witch was right, the town's curse was not her doing. Oh well, might as well since it was now night and he was leaving. He then dipped his fingers into the blood, and he watched the specter of the young boy again. This did not last long, as it only consisted of the boy being called by his mother to come home. "Idris! Dinner!"
The Hunter watched the sickly child run towards the smallest house, and the ghost vanished into the air. The Hunter then turned and left, heading back to the village. That town...he felt close to it. As if he had been there before...maybe he had. His life before now was so long ago that he could hardly remember it.
His thoughts were suddenly banished when he returned to the village, only to see it aflame! Rushing past the gates, he watched as it's people were being slaughtered by masked men! The band from last night was cut down mercilessly. The old man, beheaded. The maid from yesterday, crying as three men began to approach her, lust in their masked eyes. She struggled, kicking them away before they could do anything to her. All that resulted in was an arrow to the eye.
No...this would not stand...
"Oi, stranger! Watcha lookin' at?" Was what one of the members of the Yiga Clan said before the Hunter cut his head off. He then twisted the scythe blade to disembowel the one next to him. A slash slit the throat of another, a cut split apart the head of a fourth. All of this was done in 2 seconds.
The rest of that night became a blur to him, he only saw red as he sliced, cut, battered, shot, stabbed and murdered. Good, he was hungry for blood.
"BEASTS! YOUR NO BETTER THAN BEASTS! FEAR ME, VERMIN! I WILL SLAUGHTER YOU WERE YOU STAND!"
XXX
The Hunter sighed as he finished the final grave. This one being the barmaid that served him. The destroyed town was now only ashes. Nothing was left. Well, except a single horse and that young girl, who died shortly after from the ash in her lungs. She was buried next to her mother. Fitting, he supposed, in a ironic sort of way.
The Hunter left the graves of the townspeople and headed to his new horse. The monsters were dealt with, and their bodies incinerated as befitting. They didn't deserve their terrible fate. One of the few thing's he managed to "retain" upon his indoctrination as a hunter was his humanity. That was all that separated him from becoming a beast.
He mounted his new horse and took one last look at the once prosperous town.
Idris then spurred his horse away, and he rode under the moonlight.
Well! That's a good place to end that! This was a really fun chapter to write, and I hope you all enjoyed reading it.
Thanks for reading! I'll be focusing on another story for now, but this one is now going to be one of my main focuses. Please review and PM if you want, and I'll see you all next time!