I do not own Bloodborne or RWBY

This is a new project of mine, please read thee A.N. at the end for an update.

Chapter 1 A Waking World

A scarlet moon hanging in a bleak, cloud-stained sky, its vivid light painting the world in ominous hues of shadow and blood.

A hill, littered with flowers once white and luminous now ruined and pulverized beneath a tide of thick crimson that turned soil to mud and ran down the incline as rivers of red.

A precious caretaker, a sweet being who dolled out tenderness and comfort to the weary and the weak.

A dream.


A nightmare.

A twisted realm weaved with malice and predatory hunger, upon no sound mind nor great thoughts but sinister beastly instincts and grim endings.

"Oh... good hunter."


He awoke to a bright, blinding light that seared into the meat of his eyes and with an audible gasp he tossed his head down into the grass-covered soil. His body trembled violently, sweat coated him like a cool film as his heart vibrated in his chest, all the while he clawed at the ground his fingers carving through the soil and yanking up small green roots.

He let loose a heavy scream into the dirt in a desperate attempt to express the sheer overwhelming terror he was currently afflicted with. His mind was a storm of nightmarish memories and manifested nightmares that ravaged his sanity with unearthly Insight. He wailed into the soil uncaring for the dirt he could taste on his lips as he recalled the hell that was Yharnam and the events that took place there.

He did not know for how long he was at the mercy of his tortured mind and enveloping grief but by the time he began to crawl up from his despair the ground about him was mauled and his throat felt as if he had gargled glass shards. Shakily he rose to his feet and as his eyes adjusted to the strange burning light, he did his best to steady himself against the thick bough of a solid tree. When the last pinpricks of white faded from his abused retina, he took in his surroundings and was shocked by the world about him.

Verdant green grass, rich brown tree trunks and a sparkling blue lake the likes of which left him almost breathless. He looked around and beheld even more beauty, flowers of varying shades, leaves rich and vibrant dancing beneath the light from above. Shuffling out from beneath the shade of the tree he awoke under, he beheld the gorgeous, enchanting sight that was the sun in all its blinding glory. He did not know how long it had been since he laid eyes on the dawn, let alone the midday sun in all its splendour but for that moment he did not care. He greedily embraced those warm rays of light as they danced along his skin, even going so far as to let out a soft groan of pleasure at the revitalising effect it had upon him.

Sadly, while he wanted to do little more than continue to take in this bright beautiful world about him, he could not afford to dally. Often, he was safe when just awakening but that was not always the case and so quickly, with his defences back up and with his eyes shut tightly, his hand reached for the mist. He expected to feel the comforting sensation of a weapon handle as it appeared in his grip, what he got instead was the sensation of grasping at air. Like a gunshot had gone off in his mind his eyes shot open, panicked, and shaking.

He tried again and again, over, and over to no success, despite his efforts, he could no longer reach into the mist to access his armoury in the dream. Without his weapons he was at a ridiculous disadvantage, even a weaker beast would pose an undeniable threat to him in this state. Letting slip a feral snarl as his frustration peaked, he observed his hand as it thrust into the air, trying to see what could be wrong. The answer quickly made itself horridly apparent.

That was not his hand.

Looking at the appendage with a morbid curiosity, he observed the fact that no longer was his hand covered in a smattering of callouses and the ever-present tinge of blood that he could never be rid of. Instead of the expected hand of a seasoned hunter, he beheld the hand of a child and all that carried with it. Clean skin, small fingers, and not a callous to be seen, a quick glance revealed his other hand was also the same. Now he was sure something was up, a hunter was no stranger to weird goings-on, but this was pushing it, even taking into consideration the things he had witnessed within the Nightmares.

Grunting in annoyance he looked around for possible clues about just what was going on here, the picturesque view now tainted by his mounting confusion. It was the glittering light reflecting off of the nearby lake that gave him an epiphany, so with cautious steps he hurried over to the shore and looked into the calm waters below.

He gasped audibly, his small hands coming up to trace his face as old memories stirred and things, he had long stopped thinking about rose to the forefront of his mind. His time in Yharnam had taken more than a toll on him, no one endured that hell and came out unscathed… no one. He was no different, his memory was an unfortunate casualty of the immense amounts of otherworldly Insight he had consumed, its mauling meant he had little recollection of specifics, but he still knew he had changed. But now, seeing a face that had long since been forgotten he began to recall the magnitude of his transformation.

He knew what his face should look like, sunken eyes that were tinged red with heavy bags beneath them, shallow cheeks, and pallid, dirty skin. His hair, thick and unkempt, bereft of liveliness and colour, more akin to dirty ash and coated in gods knows what. His lips almost blended with his skin, and should he pull them back one would see dark unnatural gums and sharp stained teeth. But that wasn't all, his skin while normally coated in blood, viscera, filth, and all manner of other substances had another defining feature. His death marks, areas where his already pale flesh became mockingly white as in a parody of a scar his skin would be permanently marked as a reminder of one of his countless failures.

His body only had one real scar on it, or at least it used to.

The face he saw now was not his, it had not been for what seemed like an eternity, but he recognized it all the same. His eyes now seemed so alive, dark blue that easily fit into the world of colour he now found himself in. His hair was so eye-catching, its bright blond colouration eliciting fond memories that quickly turned sour in the same instant. His skin actually had a little pink to it and his cheeks were pudgy and youthful. He quickly peeled back his lips and saw pink gums and clean white teeth that would easily be the envy of any Yharnamite. But above all, it was the youth, the childishness of his face that surprised him the most.

Truthfully, he had no clue as to what his age was, or what it should be for that matter, but what he did know is that in Yharnam he had most assuredly been an adult. Now though, he would be surprised if he had even yet to have seen a decade, a confronting idea considering how much he had come to rely on his physical abilities. Taking note of his attire also left him confused, the clothes were like nothing he would have found in Yharnam, but they somehow seemed so familiar. He pawed at the strange long-sleeved overcoat, or perhaps cloak would be a better descriptor as it had a hood. That wasn't even going into the strange shoes adorning his feet, they were peculiar and what they could possibly be made of was an utter mystery.

Just as he was examining the laces on his new foot attire, he was yanked from his introspection by a high-pitched scream that echoed across the woods. His experiences in Yharnam had made him into somewhat of an expert on the nature of screams, be they those of manic rage, utter despair or more commonly heart-pounding terror. This one was unmistakably a scream of terror and worse still, it was the high-pitched shriek of a child, one who was most definitely in need of aid.

Instincts hardened and refined over his career as a hunter sparked into action as his confusion and curiosity were put in a box and shoved to the back of his mind. Being well practiced, he easily discerned the direction of the scream and a rough estimate of the distance. Course set, he took off in a mad dash, his shortened stature may have slowed him, but his conviction gave him more than enough speed as he leapt over precarious roots and around the thick trunks of trees.

When he got to what he estimated to be the location the scream emanated from he quickly took stock of the situation. Firstly, there was no one present, no child and no threat, secondly, there was no blood present or any evidence of a struggle, thirdly he saw underbrush across the clearing showing signs of having been recently trampled upon. Another scream pierced the air but this time it overlapped with an inhuman roar that made his blood stir as images of countless beasts ran through his mind. None he had encountered before sounded like this, that was a problem easily rectified by making this one his first.

His small frame was strange and disconcerting but his ability to compartmentalize allowed him to make great use of it as he rushed through the underbrush. He was closing on his prey now, the sound of heavy footfalls and the trampling of undergrowth was just ahead. A third scream this one laced with pain had him putting on an additional burst of speed as he exploded from the underbrush with bloodshed on his mind.

The sight before him was that of a little girl with blond hair akin to his own new locks, they wore a white top beneath some green overalls and were presently hidden within the hollow of a decrepit tree. The beast that had pursued her was snarling at it gouged at the earth trying to reach her, it was porcine in appearance, with a hide like shadow and adorned in thick bone plates that jutted out like armour. Even though it faced away from him, he could still see the savage tusks that curved out from its maw like weapons. He spared the little girl another glance, saw the terror in her eyes, heard the wet fear infused sob as she curled away from the monstrous boar and let his nature take over.

He would enjoy the slaughter of this wicked thing, he would do well to put it down as he had all other pigs. His hatred for any beast that bore their form was something he never tried to hide and seeing one of their ilk attempting to harm a little girl stirred up memories that brought out his savagery in all its bluster. Only one thing stalled him and that was his lack of armament, so with a calculating scan, he looked about the nearby area for anything he could arm himself with. His choices were sticks or rocks.

He chose a rock. It was relatively flat had a rough jagged point and fit neatly in his hand, it was hefty enough to break bone given a strong enough swing. Or at least he hoped so.

His body was as much a weapon as any blade, his instincts a ferocious combination of experience and knowhow. Seeing the bone-white plates on its body let him know he would have to attack its underside or other more vulnerable spots. Its size was a concern, the creature was larger than his current frame, but it was also low to the ground and quite broad, it would not be easy to slip around it. Lastly was the fact that his only weapon was a rock, and his current body was not nearly as effective as his other so that led him to one conclusion. He would have to make the most of his first strike, a stealthy attack on it while it was distracted would be his best bet.

A plan of action made, he rushed towards the beast, his target was its back legs, the black flesh was unarmoured and would provide his best chance at bleeding the foul thing. The heavy grass softened his footfalls, and the rustle of the foliage was concealed by the snarling of the savage boar. When he got within reach of his target, he lashed out bringing his makeshift weapon down on the back of what would be the hock on a regular pig. The rough point of the rock slashed into its strange black flesh drawing out a tar-like fluid that dribbled down its limb. Despite swinging with all his strength though he did not hear that satisfying wet crack that was synonymous with a broken bone.

The beast let out a guttural squeal and kicked back trying to retaliate against its unknown attacker, but its wild flailing did not come close. A hunter knows when to move and he had never been within range of its wild rebuttal. The thing was now facing him and as such, he had a better idea of what he was dealing with, a challenge to be sure. The beast's boar-like head was heavily armoured all over, its tusks sharp and protruding and with four bright orange eyes blinding it would be a challenge. The thing was snarling at him gutturally, stomping its hooved front feet aggressively but it did not charge, something stalling it. The beast glanced back at its bleeding back leg allowing the hunter to see the limb shaking, it seemed he had done more damage than he first anticipated.

The little girl shouted something from her hiding spot, but he couldn't pay attention as the thing lumbered at him at what was no doubt a reduced charge with its tusks lowered. He stepped around it, letting the beast charge right on by, his eyes locked onto the already injured limb. He also observed how its turn was somewhat cumbersome, no doubt exacerbated by its injured limb. An exploitable weakness to be sure.

It charged once more, a bit faster but still a manageable speed for the moment. This time when he stepped to the side, he raised his rock at the ready as it passed by. With a swing, he slammed the rock into the same injured leg, a squeal of pain and the buckling of the limb being his reward. But his unfamiliar body threw him off as his shorted legs denied him his usual grace, it was due to this that a wild bucking kick caught his gut and hurled him into the dirt. His stomach ached but he had endured worse pains against fiercer opponents, so with little fanfare he rolled back to his feet and met the furious boar's glare. With a snort it trotted forward cautiously, head thrusting out as it threatened him with its sharp tusks.

The hunter needed it mad, its front was too armoured for him to make a dent and its slow turning speed was his biggest advantage over it. Spitting on the ground he quickly ran back from the creature hoping it would charge him. It did not but it did gain speed on its approach, adapting his hasty plan he scooped up some dirt in his free hand and waited for it to get close. The moment it lunged trying to impale him, he hurled his handful of dirt into its eyes blinding the creature for a moment. A moment was all he needed, and a swift dash had him sidelong with its shaking limb, with two hands wrapped about the rock he struck down as if it were a hammer.

This time the pig squealed, and the rock jabbed into the hock, the bend in the limb, finally giving in as the beast's rear flopped to the dirt. But misfortune reared its head when the rock crumbled in his hand, his weapon broken, he did the only thing he could think to do. Stomping violently on the other leg, which was left exposed at an odd angle supporting all the beast's back weight, floored the beast entirely and rewarded the hunter with another pained squeal.

It thrashed trying to strike him with a sharp tusk, but he had already retreated towards the girl, his eyes searching all the while for another weapon. He found none. Panic was the enemy though and would not best him now, not with another's life on the line. He made it to the decrepit tree, gouged soil and splinters littering the dirt but no blood, a good sign to be sure. Inside the hollow, the girl was curled into the tree her hands over her ears and her eyes shut tightly. He wanted to check on her, but he knew better than to divert his attention mid hunt, his prey was wounded not dead, not yet.

Looking back to the staggering beast as it tried to approach him showed a heavy drip of blood pouring from its hind leg, the one he had thrashed with the rock. The blood crept down its flank before seeming to turn to ash and disintegrate, a peculiar sight to be sure but he had seen stranger still. As if in defiance of his observation the boar began to curl into a ball before defying all reason and rolling at him with impressive speed. It was only thanks to his own experience as a hunter that he was able to hurl his body out of the way and avoid a painful collision. The tree behind him was not so lucky.

With a mighty snap, the decrepit plant gave way, splintering near the base and, revealing the little girl who gave a startled scream as she was showered in splinters. The boar carried by its momentum went on for a good couple of feet before its roll slowed and it's slid along the dirt. Its body was splayed out on the dirt its injured limb clearly inhibiting its abilities, but it was tenacious if nothing else. It was already rising, leaving the hunter with little choice but to save the girl so he could focus solely on fighting this beast.

"Hurry child, flee to the woods or the lake, I will handle this swine," the hunter ordered to the small girl, but rather than rushing off into the forest she gave him a terrified and confused look. "Go! Run!" He shouted again, his hand pointing to the woods as he kept a close eye on the once again standing beast.

The child said something in response, her voice wavering as tears pooled in her eyes, the hunter did not understand her words though. He would not have time to be worried about that though, as the boar was rolling towards them like a mad buzzsaw. He only had a moment to react and so he did the only thing he could do, he threw the little girl clear of the path. He tried his best to get clear himself but in a child's body, he lacked the strength needed. With a wet crunch, he felt his right leg get crushed beneath the weight of the barrelling beast. He would not give it the satisfaction of expressing his pain beyond a groan that slipped between snarling teeth.

Once more the beast tumbled out of its roll, wounded, and dazed, but already rising once more. The hunter barked at the little girl to run but once more she only looked at him confused, before clutching at his arm with her little hands and tugging him. She was trying to drag him away, she was trying to save him despite his orders for her to flee. The girl was screaming at him now, her panicked voice heartbreaking as she no doubt pleaded with him to get up. The hunter looked to the side and saw the boar, snarling with hate in its eyes as it began to curl into a ball once more.

Those eyes brought back memories the hunter had buried deep within the recesses of his mind, they were memories of failure and grief, of pain and loss. Suddenly the little girl in front of him was replaced with another, her head adorned by a white ribbon, a beautiful white ribbon made of lace and coated in blood and viscera. As his rage bubbled up the hunter forced himself to look away, and in doing so saw his best chance for salvation.

With a defiant bellow that was more befitting a beast than any man, the hunter pawed the soil dragging his body up, crushed leg sliding limply behind him. He stood tall before the creature as it began to build up speed, with little care for appearances the hunter let loose a bloodthirsty roar of his own at the porcine fiend as if in challenge. Enraged, it launched towards him, its speed a blur to any other, but not him. He had seen faster, he had fought faster, he had killed faster.

Tugging the little girl to his back with one hand and holding his other aloft over his shoulder he waited for just the right moment. With the dexterity of one who had done it a million times and the accuracy of one who regularly hunted the most agile of prey, the hunter flung his arm forward and released a small pebble. It soared through the air and with pinpoint precision struck the spinning beast in one of its four glowing eyes. With a pained squeal, the creatures spinning ball lost its shape and it tumbled across the dirt painfully. But it was still coming towards them, skidding along the ground on its side painfully, its bare underside exposed and vulnerable.

With the girl behind him and his bloodlust at a peak, the hunter's now empty hand became spear-like in shape and his arm reared back. As if his arm were a Stake Driver itself, he thrust his hand forward with a feral grunt, his limb piercing the beast's throat and his fingers curling around fleshy innards. With his balance thrown off and his arm buried up to the elbow in its neck the momentum of the boar sent him spinning, his crushed leg painfully slapping into the little girl. Desperate to regain his balance he wrenched his arm out in a shoddy execution of a Visceral Attack that splattered the ground with thick gore. The beast continued to slide leaving a thick dark streak of its tar-like blood in its wake, before finally coming to a stop.

The hunter waited for it to get back up, one hand gripping the girl so as to react at a moment's notice. He counted back from five, just to be cautious. It did not move, it did not so much as twitch and before too long it began to disintegrate along with the blood the hunter had relieved it of. Quickly looking around for any signs of more beasts, the hunter was relieved to see that the area seemed safe for the moment. A rapid tugging on his sleeve brought his attention back to the little girl who was talking to him again, but her words seemed so distant. It was getting darker now, the hunter thought it must be getting late but looking up showed the sun still bright in the sky.

Confused by this he had little time to react when his balance completely left him and he flopped on his back, a pained hiss leaving his mouth as his broken leg was twisted terribly. The girl was yelling at him now her hand tugging at the clothes upon his chest, he must have pulled her down when he fell. His grip slid from her arm as the world darkened more and more, with a pained huff he felt his mind drift and consciousness fade. He surely was not injured enough to merit a return to the dream, what a farce this child body he was afflicted with was. The girl's voice was all but inaudible now and his eyes were tightly shut, his last thoughts of his conscious mind being of sincere satisfaction at having put down another murderous pig.

He really hated pigs.

"Ah, welcome home, good hunter…"


When his eyes opened, he was surprised to see an unfamiliar roof over his head, he was sure that he should be in the dream. But this was not the workshop, so he must have simply dreamt it. He was suddenly struck by the utter madness of it, dreaming of a dream… what a strange phenomenon, did other hunters experience something similar? As much as he may have wanted to dwell on the matter it was a simple fact that an awake hunter was an alert hunter. As such he knew almost instantly he was not alone, daring not to move his head lest he give away the element of surprise, the hunter scoped the room out with his eyes alone.

The little girl, the one he had saved from that damnable pig, was sitting on a chair her legs pulled up to her chest and her face buried in her knees, sobs racking her tiny frame. The hunter found this odd, but realisation quickly followed, the girl must have gotten help and brought him back to an abode. Positively foolish, they knew nothing of him yet would welcome a stranger into their home… such naivety would see you and your family slaughtered in Yharnam, Nay such kindness, such mercy, was a weakness in that nightmarish hellscape. Survival was the only virtue one should preach, charity begets treachery and open doors welcome savage beasts.

"And… I sort of hoped that, my asking you, turned out to, you know, help 'em out in the end… I've never been of any use to anyone, you see… Just, happy about it, is all… ha, ha!"

His breath halted in his chest, and it was as if electricity surged throughout his body, locking his arms to his chest, and forcing his jaw to clench painfully. Old memories, memories that he did not want to dwell upon at this moment rose to the surface and ate at his calm. Regrets trailed them like a famine in the wake of locusts.

"If you please, kind hunter… When the night of the hunt passes, s'pose we could be friends, maybe?"

It all became too much, and the hunter fell back on the old faithful for beating back the agony that brought lead to his heart. Shooting up straight he brought a fist around and slammed it into his own cheek, the thwack of his fist crashing into his face immediately startling the little girl. But more importantly, it allowed his focus to shift from the past. Much to his relief, the pain dragged his mind back from the memory of a chapel, a safe haven for those in need and its caretaker who only wanted to help.

Before the hunter could begin to dwell once more on old tragedies, he felt his bed shift as the little girl clambered to reach him her mouth babbling something he couldn't make sense of. To his startlement the young girl pounced upon him, wrapping her arms about his neck, and burying her tear-stained face into his chest. If he needed any more proof that he was no longer in Yharnam this would have been the final nail in the coffin. The girl was saying something, but her words were incomprehensible to the hunter, her face being pressed to his torso did not help.

His silence seemed to halt her tide of affection as she pulled away from his chest and stared at him with startlingly blue eyes. Her golden hair was still dirty from the hollow she had hid in and she was very much in need of a nap, but it was her expression that worried him. At first, he thought it was the all too familiar fear that was often directed towards a hunter, but to his surprise, it was instead concern. Finally, she spoke once more but with a voice no longer addled by sadness nor muffled by the fabric of his clothes.


The hunter's eyes widened, it was as if he had just beheld a Great One's very being as fresh Insight made itself known within the confines of his mind. His eyes stared ahead as a memory buried beneath a sea of blood and horror played like a dream.


His eyes fluttered open as his body seemingly came to life, his mind still caught in the lethargy of sleep was slow to take note of his new surroundings, a persistent haze clinging to his thoughts. But with time he began to make sense of it all, his waking mind already piecing it together. It was… quiet and cool, a soft breeze washed over his prone form and cool mist caressed his face. With great exertion, he pushed his body off the hard, cobbled ground and grunted as he rose to his feet. He found himself in what appeared to be a cemetery, stacks of graves littered the surrounding area and central to it was a small church. The warm, hypnotic flickering of a lantern drew his eyes to a stone ledge upon which sat a most peculiar sight.

He approached sure his eyes were deceiving him but no he was not mistaken at all. Sat upon the ledge adjacent to the lantern was a large doll, at first, he had thought it a mannequin, but the amount of detail and its splendidly crafted maid attire convinced him otherwise. He crawled upon the step to get a closer look at it, or perhaps 'her' would be more appropriate, it was remarkably lifelike, its porcelain features enchanting beneath the moonlight making it appear almost otherworldly. Adding to its beauty was the flickering from the adjacent lamp, the dancing light granting it the illusion of life as the warm light moved in tandem with the cool light of the heavenly body above across its features.

Further inspection of the doll was postponed when a sudden noise to his right caused him to leap back. His shock cost him however as he quickly found his foot hooked on a stone that sent him tumbling onto the hard ground. Letting out a low pained groan he found his pained exclamation echoed by another, with utter befuddlement he looked upon the stairs and witnessed a very peculiar sight. A clump of small, strange, pale blue, figures observing him from the steps, asymmetrical faces peering at his curiosity. In a disjointed choir, they moaned once more their small arms beckoning towards him, asking him to approach.

He did so as he had the strangest sense of déjà vu, the small pallid figures seemed to almost sprout out of the ground, a wispy wreath of fog or maybe mist encircling their emaciated forms. Their legs were hidden, and their bodies were thin, but their arms were even thinner, they had different faces, each of them. Some had two eyes and a mouth full of large bulging teeth, others had but one eye and their teeth were hidden beneath frowning, leathery lips. Others had strange cleft mouths and only a single eye, yet another looked like it had two eyes, but a flap of skin had grown over one like a patch.

He was so distracted taking in their myriad of features that he didn't even realise he was now hovering over the tiny clump. They moaned and waved at him, almost excitedly before as a team they started to heave something up from beneath them. In their many grasping hands, the strange pale creatures now held aloft a selection of what could only be weapons. An axe, a strange cleaver or maybe it was a saw and a... cane? He was confused but the small creatures eagerly waved the dangerous-looking items at him, their excited energy switching to almost pleading. Kneeling he reached for the cleaver, it looked more dangerous than the cane but less cumbersome than the axe. The moment he took a hold of the weapon the creatures that held it aloft danced happily the others seemed to almost pout, tucking their offerings back below the mist that encircled them.

He rose, his new weapon in hand and turned his gaze to the church atop the stairs, the strange creatures waved him on with their disproportionate limbs. So, with curiosity in his eyes, he strode up the stairs, but his path was blocked by a new clump of the small pale creatures, this time they held aloft firearms. These were a lot less confusing than the other selection, one was a small pistol that would fit in his hand neatly, the other was a large, hefty firearm that boasted a thick barrel and a beefy stock. He almost felt bad for the little guys as there were fewer of them this time and the ones with the heavier gun seemed to be really struggling.

This was a far easier decision than the last and so he quickly picked the lighter of the two options, the little ones quickly dropping the other back into the mist. Their expressions were not easily read, to say the least, but this time the relief was obvious. Giving them a quirked smile, he hurried along his path up the stairs once more, this time making it to the church's door before another gathering of the small creatures appeared. This group was smaller than both of the others and much calmer, in their arms they held a small notebook, which they handed to him gently and with great care. Placing the pistol on the ground he made a show of tucking the book into his waistcoat and patting it to show it was secure. This seemed to make the strange critters very happy judging by their gleeful waving.

Finally free of distractions he glanced to his left to behold the church's doors, they were slightly ajar, and there was the warm glow of a fireplace from within. Pushing the thick wooden doors open he entered the building but much to his surprise what greeted him was most assuredly not a church. Desks and tables were scattered about, some covered in books, others in candles and some holding even stranger materials. There was a fireplace behind a grate that crackled warmly casting its soothing heat about the interior of the building. There were large rugs laid haphazardly upon the floor, probably put there as an afterthought to help fight off the chill. The last thing of notice was also quite probably the most important, the room was presently occupied.

An old man, adorned in well-worn clothes that were frayed and patch marked, wearing a wide brim hat pulled low to cover his eyes sat in a wheelchair across from the fireplace. His wrinkled old hands clutched tightly at the handle of a cane, his pale, leathery skin pulled taught against his knuckles from how fierce his grip was. His attire was mostly browns and faded reds, multiple layers upon one another no doubt in an effort to keep the cold at bay, a combination of coats, a shawl or maybe a hood and even a scarf on top of that. The dull red of his pants almost obscured yet another defining trait that the old man possessed, a peg leg situated where his right foot should be.

In an attempt to see more of the old man, he stepped closer, unaware that as he did his feet crossed the threshold and unto one of the large rugs. It wasn't until he got closer, so close that he practically stood over the hunched figure, that his feet left the rug and stepped upon the wooden floor.


His body froze stiff as the loud noise echoed out from beneath his feet, his eyes paralysed in wide-open shock as the floorboard ground under his heel. With eerily smooth motions the old man's head peered upwards his cold grey eyes, accented by heavy bags stared into his own with piercing intensity. Then like a tear appearing in old parchment the old man smirked.

"Ah-hah, you must be the new hunter." The old man spoke cheerily, his old, weathered voice straining to produce emotion. He lifted a single hand of the cane and gestured around as he continued to talk, "welcome to the Hunter's Dream. This will be your home, for now."

He didn't know what to say to that, the name of this place or the supposed suggestion that he was meant to be a new hunter. But if this place was to be his home... at least it as peaceful.

"I am..." the man trailed off muttering his eyes squinting as he struggled to find the word he was looking for. "Gehrman, friend to you hunters," He finished after finding the word, his name of all things. A strange thing to forget.

"You're sure to be in a fine haze about now, but don't think too hard about all of this." Gehrman continued nonchalantly, his words hitting the nail on the head. "Just go out and kill a few beasts. Its for your own good. You know, its just what hunters do! You'll get used to it..." he finished with a crooked smile and a stuttering wink.

Part of him felt he should be concerned about Gehrman's words but through the strange dreamlike haze of his mind, he couldn't work up the want to worry. Instead, he looked to his hands, investigating the strange cleaver and the pistol he had armed himself with. Weapons... weapons were for killing and according to Gehrman, killing is what hunters do... and he was supposedly a hunter.

Gehrman seeing him observing his new weapons spoke up once more, this time his voice was sombre... almost nostalgic. "This was once a safe haven for hunters. A workshop where hunters used blood to enhance their weapons and flesh," he explained head tilting to stare at the wall that was obscured by the fireplace earlier. A clear view of said wall now revealed it to be adorned by several hanging blades that simply put, looked dangerous. They hung above what looked like a workbench and each of them looked brutal, they were blades made to slash and cleave. There were also a few firearms leaning against the workbench, they were only partially put together, but their barrels were twice as long as his pistol easily.

"We don't have as many tools as we once did, but..." Gehrman looked back his gaze shifting to something unreadable before a friendly smile appeared on his features once more. "You're welcome to use whatever you find," Gehrman's smile twisted into something else as he whispered, "...Even the doll, should it please you..."

Put off by the strange look he took a step back and eyed the old man warily, his mind cast back to the picturesque doll seated at the base of the stairs. Gehrman gave a dry chuckle at his reaction before speaking once again, "no? Well, no matter then, down to business as it where you should head out... after all... a hunter must hunt." But he did not move, even as Gehrman's brow furrowed, and his smile slipped from his face.

"What has you, hunter? Go, be gone to the waking world... hunter?" Gehrman growled.

"... I have a name," he spoke in response to Gehrman's frustrations.

"Oh, is that what stays your hunt? Fine then, speak it clearly and then be off with you, the night is yet young and there be prey aplenty," Gehrman groused his voice just shy of producing an actual harumph.

"... my name is Jaune..."


"Jaune? Jaune!?" the little girl's voice bade for his attention, a pleading tone entering her worried voice. But Jaune was far too stunned to reply, his mind too caught up in a storm of thoughts and queries. He could not remember the last time he had heard his name spoken, it had long since become something that had fallen to the wayside as he struggled to endure the endless night. But now this little girl uttered it with such certainty, such familiarity, such concern... how did this child know of his name?

Suddenly the door to the room opened and figures walked in, a rabble of them in fact, causing him to tense and his hand to grip the bedsheets violently. He noticed first and foremost the resemblance they all shared to the little girl in green, the exception being the only male who was most likely her father. There was four of them, two more children, both girls and both noticeably older than their sister in green, the eldest possibly being a preteen. Behind the two young girls was a man and woman who could not more obviously be their parents, both girls bearing a startling resemblance to their father.

The father was much like them, blonde, blue eyes, and of fair skin, standing something over 6ft, he cut an imposing figure with an athletic build that would not be strange on a fellow hunter. This immediately made Jaune alert, as his current body had struggled with but a singular beastly swine and often times hunters made for far more dangerous foes. He wore light clothing, a pair of blue trousers and a simple white buttoned-up shirt decorated with faint grey patterns. He seemed nervous at the moment his eyes quickly darting about the room while his crossed arms squeezed faintly at his biceps... rather large biceps, someone who makes use of strength perhaps.

The woman stood out next, if only for her juxtaposing appearance when compared to all the other members of the family. Where they were all blond, blue-eyed, and fair-skinned she stood out with skin slightly more tanned than her male counterpart and hair black as night, but it was her eyes that were daringly different. She possessed eyes of deep purple, they were bright and hypnotic even in the poorly lit room, such a colour appeared regale and dangerous as did the woman they belonged to. She much like her husband was imposing, only slightly shorter than him she wore a revealing sleeveless tunic of some sort that exposed her arms, arms that were like the body of a serpent, corded muscles, and taught flesh. Her midriff was also on display and was quite swollen at the moment, a clear sign of pregnancy... he tried not to let his thoughts drift back to his previous experiences with expecting mothers.

Jaune suspected that were she not so gravid at this very moment he would see her as just as much a threat as her husband. Possibly more so going by the way her fingers kept twitching near her belt, going to grasp something that was no longer there... a firearm perhaps.

His eyes drifted to the girls next, one could mistake them for twins if not for an obvious age difference. The eldest had hair that reached down her back, it was braided and kept tame by a series of... of red bows. Her eyes much like her father and siblings were a jewel-like blue colour and seemed to overflow with worry. She wore a light red dress, much lighter than any you would find in Yharnam, perhaps due to the warm weather here it was more necessary to wear lighter and thus more revealing clothes.

Her sister, who was a good head shorter than she was, stood to her right, tightly clutching her sibling's hand. Her hair was much shorter, it reached down to between her shoulder blades, and was also done up in a braid, but hers was free of ribbons. She also wore a wide brim hat with a leather belt for a brim, the rich brown leather contrasting with the harsh white of the hat. She had on a sleeveless top in a burnt orange colour as well as some blue shorts, a peculiar attire for a little girl. Jaune was under the impression that young ladies preferred pretty dresses... or was that another Yharnam thing.

"Jade? We heard yelling is everything ok?" The woman asked, her voice soft but her concern was very much on display.

"Mum! Dad! It's Jaune, he's not talking!" The small child he now knew to be called Jade all but wailed at her parents, tears beginning to gather in her blue orbs. The man having heard his child's plea strode across the room, his long legs devouring the distance between him and Jaune. Jaune readied to fling his form from the bed and make a break for it, he was in no condition to face off with another hunter. But rather than reach for him, the man instead took a knee, his face now level with Jaune's own and seemed to lean in to talk in a low voice.

"Jaune... Son, are you alright?" His voice was a soothing tenor and for some reason it made Jaune's body relax. "Can you say something Jaune... anything?" He asked softly.

Jaune was very confused now, this man also seemed to know him somehow, a strange and confronting fact that made Jaune want to leave immediately but something stopped him. The man had a look about him, a kind look, something about it stirred the bowels of Jaunes mind. The man however seemed put off by his continued silence his brows furrowing as his cheek twitched ever so slightly.

Jaune knew the man's displeasure was not targeted at him directly but still could not help but feel uncomfortable about the shift in his demeanour. Reflexively he tried to move away from the man, to put a bit of space between them, but the moment his leg dragged along the bed he felt pain shoot up his nerves. Against his will, an agonised hiss peeled past his bared teeth followed closely by a throaty groan, tears sprung to his eyes, and he rapidly blinked them away as throbbing hell exploded into existence within his right leg.

"Jaune!" Echoed out through the room as everyone rushed to his sides, worry evident as they each loomed nearby ready to offer aid at a moment's notice. This possibly had the opposite effect on Jaune who was now more confused than ever, these people seemingly knew him, all of them. First and foremost though, Jaune yanked the sheets off and away from his leg, desperate to know the source of this painful throbbing.

When he finally laid eyes on his leg he became immediately concerned, it was utterly mangled and honestly not a pretty sight. Black and blue, with odd lumps under the skin that could only be his bones all bound up in a makeshift splint. It was by no means the worst state he had been in as his organs were all still internal and he was not presently being impaled by his own blood, but it still bloody hurt.

"Careful now son, don't jostle too much, the doctor is on his way but he's going to be a bit," The man spoke a hand resting upon Jaune's shoulder to steady him.

"You were in quite a state when we found you... you had us worried Sunshine," their mother mumbled as she stood over the bed, her voice tinged with worry. Jaune felt the pressure begin to build in his head as the woman continue to say something that his ears refused to hear. His mind to busy trying to work out what she meant by calling him Sunshine.

"What is going on?" Jaune finally asked, his tongue catching on his teeth as he spoke his question. But rather than a reply, the whole room went ominously silent, so quiet in fact that Jaune could hear his heartbeat.

"... Jaune... what did you just say?" The man asked breaking the silence his voice the epidemy of confusion. He looked to his wife before asking, "Was that some kind of Mistrali language?"

"Not one I have ever heard?" The woman replied, her purple eyes staring at him inquisitively.

Jaune heard all this and got even more confused, could they not understand the words he was saying, he was speaking... wait, what was he speaking?

"Hello?" He asked slowly trying to gauge their reactions. They looked back, the concern in their eyes now having evolved into a simmering fear.

"... Maybe he hit his head, you think he's got a concussion?" The man finally spoke up leaning in trying to see Jaunes eyes.

"Damn it all, if that doctor doesn't hurry up, I am going to ram that sword of yours down his throat!" The woman growled spitefully, her fist clenching tightly causing the sound of her knuckles popping to ring out. The man sensing his wife's fury quickly moved away from Jaune and embraced her, whispering something in her ear that he couldn't hear. But that didn't matter to Jaune, what mattered was the strange symbol on the back of the man's clothes.

Symbols, images, glyphs, runes... these things mattered in Yharnam. It was an indisputable fact that symbols in Yharnam possessed great power, one need not look further than the Caryll Runes for a textbook example of such a thing. But the symbol upon the man's back was unlike the more infamous ones etched by the runesmith, it was not the utterance of a Great One inscribed upon the physical world. It could not alter his physical abilities nor bind his mind unto a covenant of fellow hunters.

But it did cause his mind to itch, cause his memories to writhe, his thoughts to bloom and before too long he knew exactly how he knew that damn crest. It was not a complex design, simply being two crescents stacked atop of each other, both the colour of pearl. He knew it well, he had held unto it even at his lowest, it had been a stagnant reminder of things before the hunt. It was a familial crest, one representative of honour, pride, and fighting prowess.

It was the crest of Arc. It was his family's crest.

Without even thinking about it, his hand reached off of the bed and towards that prominent design, his fingers tracing across the printed texture. He felt the man's back stiffen as his fingers traced the design but paid it no heed. It was like something out of a dream, it seemed so unreal but there it was, the crest he had once shown off to the others with pride. The night had taken the emblem from him, as it had his name, his past... he had lost so much in the hunt.

But now, seeing it, he remembered, as if coming out of a haze the name appeared in his mind and as if he was back on his first trek from the Hunter's Dream, he uttered his name aloud.

"Jaune Arc."

The man... no, his father, turned around and looked down at him, a spark of hope shining in his eyes. He quickly knelt back down, his daughters... Jaune's sisters, leaning in on the bed their own eyes lighting up with hope. "Jaune, son, are you ok... can you speak?" Jaune's father asked gently, his voice comforting, but Jaune could hear the worry beneath the surface.

"I-..." Jaune tried to reply but found his words catching in his throat, coming out as choked gags. His vision began to blur, and his mouth trembled, before he knew it his chest was spasming and tears were cascading down his cheeks without restraint. He was crying, sobbing, bawling. As if to make matters worse he couldn't get rid of his smile, he was almost positive that he looked like a maddened lunatic before his family but was too overwhelmed to care.

"D-d-d-d... DAD!" Jaune shouted as he powered through the pain in his leg to embrace his father. Throwing both arms around the kneeling man's neck he buried his child-sized face into his father's collar bone and let loose an ecstatic sob. His father wasted no time in returning the embrace, his hand coming to rest on Jaunes head as he patted his scalp.

"It's ok Jaune, I'm here, Dad's right here," he whispered back his arms holding Jaunes frame tightly. Jaune could feel the pain of his broken leg lance up his limb but ignored it with ease, any pain was worth this. He was home, he had made it.

He made it back to his family.

Realization sparked in Jaune's mind as he gently pulled away from his father's hug and looked toward the other people in the room. They were his family, his mother, and his sisters. He had saved his sister earlier. Suddenly the pain in his legs was but a minor ache in comparison to the relief that washed over him.

Their names... what are their names? Jaune thought as his head whipped between them, his mind struggling to come up with an answer. Wait Arc's, dad named us after the rainbow, looking towards his only younger sibling his eyes became transfixed to her green overalls.

"J... Jade?" He asked hesitantly, the little girl nodding her head and opening her arms to ask for a hug. Her face was still red and puffy from distressed tears that still lingered, snot dribbled from her nose, and she seemed to be afflicted by hiccups, but Jaune eagerly pulled her into his embrace. Her little fingers gripped at his shirt, and she used his shoulder to wipe her nose, but he didn't mind, she could blow her nose for all he cared.

"I-I showwy Jauney," Jade sobbed into her big brother's shirt.

Jaune with tears still pouring from his eyes laughed and squeezed the little girl tighter, "you have nothing to be sorry about Jade, I'm just glad you're safe."


"Yes, really," Jaune affirmed.

"Ok... I'm still showwy," Jade repeated sullenly burying herself deeper into Jaune's side.

"Sweetie watch Jaunes leg," their mother chimed in her voice worried. As if in direct response to her distress their dad quickly repositioned Jade so she was away from Jaunes injury. Jaune took the moment of Jade's distraction to look at the other members of his family. His mother was now far less stressed by everything, and both of his sisters seemed more comfortable as well.

"... Hey mom," Jaune uttered, blinking away his tears as he waved at his mother.

"Hey sunshine, are you feeling, ok? you had us really worried," his mother's voice was easily one of the most beautiful things Jaune had ever heard. She waddled over to him her pregnant frame being the only thing that stopped her from scooping him up. Had Jaune's leg not been in the appalling state it was in presently he would of all but leapt into her arms. Instead, they both settled for holding each other's hands. Jaune felt his mother's thumbs run over the back of his hands as she smiled down at him, her purple eyes overflowing with love and faint traces of unshed tears.

"... I will be mom," Jaune answered honestly, doing his best to stem his tears. His mother's smile gained a more sympathetic appearance as she nodded at his answer, reaching out to wipe away some of his tears.

"Hey what about us!"


Jaune's other two sisters chimed up from behind their mother, both of them peeking around her body with pouts. Jaune said nothing in response as he took in both of their features, simply memorising their appearance as it felt like an eternity since he had last seen them. His eyes lingered on the red bows intertwined with his eldest sister's hair but refused to let painful memories take root in his head.

"Scarlett... Saphron..." Jaune finally spoke taking a brief pause to remember their names, enjoying the way their faces lit up as he acknowledged them.

"You had us, worried baby bro," Scarlett huffed out, shaking her head dramatically.

"Yeah! You doofus, we are meant to be trying to keep things calm for mom!" Saphron berated him, causing Jaune to chuckle.

"Girls!" Their mother chastised shooting them both a stern look.

Jaune let the moment play out as he observed his family, Jade was talking to their dad her small body pressed against his, as her little hand clutched at his sleeve. Jaune's dad was looking over his leg while conversing with Jade, making sure she was sitting still as not to jostle Jaune's leg. Both Scarlett and Saphron were snickering as their mom facepalmed and sighed in exasperation. Jaune heaved out a hefty sigh as he relaxed into the bed, his shoulders drooping as he let his frame go limp. Jaune for the first time in what felt like an eternity let his guard down, surrounded by his loving family.

Then the doorbell rang.

And just like that Jaune's shoulders straightened and his eyes darted to the door of his room. His arm snaked around Jade, and he unwrapped his good leg from the bedsheets. His eyes observed his mother's hand twitch to her hip once more and his father shift his weight ever so subtly. Right... they are both hunters, Jaune thought as he felt some of the tension leave his form but continued to hold Jade who was now talking to Scarlett and Saphron about Jaune's epic rescue.

"Must be the doctor, I'll go bring him through and we can get that leg sorted," Jaune's father said aloud as he went off to greet whoever was at the front door.

"And den Jauney stood in fwont of me and wit a wave ob hith hand made the meanie Gwimm fall on its duipid fafe," Jade exclaimed, doing her best to re-enact the fight with the beast from before. Of course, the fact that she acted out the scene while still managing to hold onto Jaunes sleeve with her adorable little toddler hands made for a very amusing sight.

"Wow, really? How did you manage that Jaune?" Scarlett asked her face the picture of curiosity.

"Now girls, I know it has been a very exciting day but your brother needs his rest and-"

"And the doctor is here, so anyone who is not Jaune, or an adult skedaddle," their father finished as he walked back in with a large man adorned in a white coat behind him. The girls all patted or squeezed Jaune before making themselves scarce leaving Jaune in a room with his family and one of his least favourite kinds of people.

"Right then..." the doctor muttered as he pulled a chair up to Jaunes bedside and took a seat, "Jaune right?" He asked politely propping a leather bag on Jaunes bed, his greyish green eyes watching Jaune from their periphery.

"Yes sir."

"Mmhmm, so then Jaune how about we start with you telling me what happened?" The doctor asked removing tools from his bag as he eyed Jaunes injured leg. "I heard you had quite an exciting day."

"...Ok," Jaune replied preparing to ignore the doctor's ministration as he began the retelling of his encounter with the beast.


Hey all so I started another fic and at the recommendations of one of my first ever reviewers, I chose a Bloodborne RWBY crossover. I wrote this fic now because I am still trying to get a hold of my mental health, a poor excuse but a true one. Now, this fic is going to be officially considered by myself as a side project and thusly it will receive attention in direct correlation to reader interaction.

So, like a more reviews more updates type thing.

I will still very much be working on my other fic The Lord of the Eclipse as that is my passion project for the time being. But if you are a fan of this fic and want to see an update for it by all means let me know.

I don't know if I'm back to 100% yet but I won't lie, it feels good to be writing once more. Even if it is trickier.

Anyway, I'll leave it there, I look forward to hearing your thoughts on this piece and whether or not you want it to continue.

I hope you are all taking care of yourselves, stay safe out there.

As always.

Until next time.