"Oh, good hunter."

A corpse normally wasn't out of place in a hospital, no, not at all. Yet, when he felt the full weight of muscles obeying his command, he found it surprising he could let out a sigh at all. Wait, why was he seeing?

Then, it hit, as soon as he had gained self awareness a splitting pain developed in the cranium and he instinctively grabbed it, begging the pain to cease and moved to call for help. He finally took in his surroundings.

Why was he in a Victorian Era clinic?

Oh no.

"God you motherfucker, when I finally ascend I am going to have a word with you!"

For the first moments of clarity, he moved naturally, until he kicked a jar and it went rolling. Then, something snapped in his mind and he just stared at the ground. Whatever had happened, whatever did happen, he knew he wasn't getting back for thousands of years if he was lucky, yet like a simple thread it was snapped. Yet if one examined the cut on the thread left behind, it showed a rather twisted sign.

"Great, so that's all I am is it…well, fuck. Time to go fight the injured werewolf eating some unfortunate person."

The jar had come to a stop.

As the outsider made his merry way to the door, he remembered something, only for it to be forgotten as the blood began to return to his legs and he continued walking. Before opening the door, they looked back and said one word through their lips.

"I'm sorry."

After that, the door was opened and closed as the mysterious stranger made their way down the hall. The sight he had seen perhaps hundreds of times came into view and he took each and every step lightly. The steps creaked and his hearing slowly but surely picked it up, the sound of a beast, eating.

The paleblood singing in his veins, he remembered and worked his way through to peak out behind a bed covering to gaze upon his inevitable prey. The creature was much gnarlier than he thought possible, a deep primal fear nearly rooted him in his movements, but he took the chance anyways.

Only for a piece of glass to spell his doom.

The sounds of the twisted creature gorging itself on the corpse ceased and it turned, red eyes that somehow glowed like the blood it drank when light reflecting off of said material came to view, and a silent exchange lasting only a single moment took hold before the beast made its decision. Like lightning it pinned him to the ground and a simple crack spelled the end.

Eyes shot open and the outsider flailed awake, as soon as they did they came crashing backwards, a mad laughter bellowing out, starting slowly, consuming him until he was out of breath and laughing until it hurt.

"To think, all the times in the game I killed that thing, and a piece of glass is what did me over!" he shouted to the pale sky as it existed, long tall spires looming in the peripheral vision. He took a deep breath and began cackling again. Mad as a hatter if the time he was supposed to be in said anything, and it didn't help that for once, he understood why, but then like a switch the madness ended and the blood began to settle in his veins.

A soft touch earned his attention, and the ugly, yet oddly endearing face of a messenger greeted his eyes, waiting for his gaze before turning it to the workshop up the hill. With that, the being faded back to another plane, leaving a small fluctuating anomaly shimmering in its wake which rippled until it was no more.

He stood up and began walking, knowing only what he did know, a gut feeling that screamed as the blood continued to settle. Each step echoed throughout the dream. Messengers popped out to watch the exchange, and their regularly expressive bodies stilled in anticipation to watch as the stranger in their realm stepped up to the workshop. Only the ones praying by the Yharnam Tombstone paid no attention, their efforts spent praying at the stone as though their actions allowed what their visitor knew the tombstone was capable of.

Shoes clonked to a stop before the door to the workshop, and a hand reached to open the door. The creaking sound made him wince, but he pushed and entered the ancient workshop that had existed since its conception by a certain old hunter.

In all honesty, the workshop was his favorite among the soulsborne hubs, if only because of the fact he had developed a taste for the Victorian flair. Yet, somehow, standing in it he couldn't help but blink with the flickering of the fire that dimly illuminated the workshop. Parts of unknown creatures preserved in jars flashed with the flames, and the shadows upon the ornate wood danced brilliantly. Every step felt like he was walking on a minefield, what with all the papers and books his dirty shoes could stain if he wasn't careful.

In place of Gehrman's usual first in-game haunt, he saw a group of messengers. As soon as he made eye contact, they pointed to a wardrobe that normally never opened in game, and he took a hint. Opening the wardrobe revealed a surprising plethora of dust that came to the air, but thankfully no other signs of life could be seen upon opening the old wooden storage. Still, it forced the opener of the door to wave the particles away as well as blink and cough. Seriously, when was the last time someone opened this?

He had his answer when he looked inside to see a number of items neatly arranged on hooks and laid carefully, as though someone had spent a great deal of time caring for where each and every item went. Looking at it, it was a basic hunter's set normally found in the sewers behind a bipedal beast. Hanging on the right was a blunderbuss, and on the left was the threaded cane.

On the floor sat the hunter's cap with a note neatly folded in plain sight and tucked away in the protrusions that were a core part of the iconic look of the Good Hunter the player would play as. As it stood, he was more curious about the note. He picked up the old-school paper, parchment, whatever it was and unfolded it to see in very old school cursive writing, regular English though thankfully.

Dear Adam Eisern,

Yes, that is your name. Regardless of your position, I have left the necessary knowledge intact. You must have many questions, but I cannot answer them for you. Doing so would only jeopardize both of us. Cryptic, I know, but I wish for you to know this: In this journey, contrary to game mechanics, insight is your ally. As you find more and more insight, your knowledge of both your current body will begin to fall into place. You won't be able to recall events, but on your second visit to the dream the messengers will gift you a journal. You'll figure it out as you go, but I would advise against pushing the envelope of what you can do with the journal too far, but that will be fixed as you acquire insight. Also,leveling up is more streamlined and smooth.

Best of luck, and good hunting

-O

A sigh escaped Adam as he refolded the paper and set it down and looked upon the complicated Victorian clothing in front of him. Back in his old life, he preferred simple, but he wore enough fancier clothes, such as suits, to understand under layers and over layers. What was odd though was the fact there was a great amount of leather padding on the underside of the first layers which gave a fair amount of resistance to his movements, but he knew exactly why this modification was necessary, protection from Yharnam's famous beastly scourge which he would be facing.

The outer layers were mostly heavy leather on the outside, which made sense if one wanted to preserve the clothing they would be wearing, although that outer layer mostly consisted of the leather coat and shawl that came with the default Hunter's set.

The belts also helped it seems in tying the clothing, but it felt rather suffocating in some ways. Sure, he wasn't going to have his first layer of protection ripped off, but somehow it didn't feel like it was squishing something and preventing breathing. Perhaps that had to do with the fact his new body was far more lean than what he was used to, and he felt like he provided as much resistance to the belts as they did him, which seemed to make movement flow well.

Last, he looked for a mirror and brought the cap over to take one last look at his face for what he assumed would be a while. Instead of his old boring brown hair a messy, yet roguishly attractive mat of golden blonde hair and some equally blonde stubble poked out. His eyes seemed dead and sunken, as though his body was used to getting less than optimal amounts of sleep, though he didn't feel tired. To add more, his hair, despite being dirty and matted, was naturally slicking back as though keeping it out of the way was the original priority before it set in.

"Well, at least I'm handsome, by my old standards. Roguishly handsome! Guess I got some luck left. Well, let's keep this face intact."

With one motion he pulled up the mask and placed the leather hat firmly on his head and looked in the mirror, smiling a little under his mask before turning away and to the closet once more to begin strapping on his tools. First, he picked up the small pouch containing, what upon opening it, revealed to be a collection of syringes filled with red fluid and a collection of small shining projectiles whose texture was reminiscent to that of mercury or gallium. Inside was another contraption with a needle attached to it which seemed to also hold a container of quicksilver. It seemed to have a cast in which five bullets could be produced from mixing the blood and quicksilver, emergency quicksilver bullets in other words.

With that done, Adam began inspecting the blunderbuss until he fiddled around with it enough to pop open the chamber where a single quicksilver bullet sat. He sealed the chamber back up and cocked the weapon's flintlock primer. With luck, maybe bullets wouldn't be bullshit unlike in game, and he really hoped his arms were strong enough to take the recoil. Regardless, he was going to strap it to his back to use both hands in inspecting his starting weapon.

The cane was as he remembered, but switches and hold buttons sat under the handle of the oddly heavy cane top. On either side of the cane handle was a twist lever of sorts, and when he twisted the one near the trigger, or hold button, he felt gradual resistance as it turned to build up the rotational energy in the device that no doubt led to the threaded part of the cane. Deciding it was time to see what this infamous trick tool was capable of, before he went and got the saw spear, Adam made his way to an open area outside past the Yharnam tombstone and flicked the switch.

Mechanical analog whirring sounded as the cane's segments snapped out of place to form a razor with sharp blades that formed serrated teeth. Next, he tested the trigger and the threads loosened their tensile strength, and gravity forced the segments to the ground. He released the trigger and the whirring sounded again as the turn switch moved, using the built up rotational energy to snap the cane back into shape like those vacuum chord buttons that made the extended power chord slither its way back into the thing like the comical slurping of a noodle.

"Whoa, ok that's pretty fun."

"Yes, the weapons of modern day hunters are quite fascinating, aren't they?" a voice sounded to Adam's right. It was an old man's voice he had heard time and again, and his first final boss on his first playthrough of the game. There, in his somehow silent wheelchair sat Gehrman, the man, the myth, the legend. "Oh, I'm sorry, did I surprise you?"

Gehrman chuckled as he wheeled his way over towards Adam who unflicked the cane switch, so as not to cause any accidents he would immediately regret. Yet, while gears snapped into place the cane did not reform to an unassuming form. The old man chuckled again.

"Go on, slam the tip to the ground, that should realign the gears."

Adam did as instructed and the threads snapped back into place as the stone rang from being struck.

"Yes, that's it. Now you have a regular weighted cane, but don't forget the whip form. When you need to put space between yourself and a beast, it will be indispensable."

"I'm pretty sure the asshats wandering Yharnam are a bigger threat, but I'll keep what you said about the whip in mind."

Gehrman raised an eyebrow and wheeled ever so slightly closer, and Adam felt himself naturally prepare himself to step back or away if need be.

"Well, that's a peculiar term? Is that some new slang they use in Yharnam these days? Or do they actually wear asses as hats now, in Yharnam?"

"Well shit…" Adam said to himself in his head before thinking of a good excuse, then one popped into his mind. "Actually, where I'm from ass has a very…different connotation, more akin to the rear end of a person."

To Adam's shock a wheezing laugh came from the old man before quickly devolving into a coughing fit. Once it calmed down, the old man smiled and said, "I see…so when you say asshats, you mean butt heads. That's rather creative for such a childish insult. Ah, what you younger hunters come up with to say these days. It has always been a treat to hear over the decades."

Adam gave a nervous sounding laugh to clear the air. He was starting to feel sweaty already, given that even though he had beaten Gehrman on his first try, he still knew what this old man was capable of should he dare to stand up from his wheelchair.

"Anyways, I don't believe I've introduced myself. My name is…" a senile pause as the old man started humming and hawing as he looked in the recesses of his no doubt failing mind for his name. "...erm…Gehrman. I'm a…friend to you hunters, a mentor too should you choose to accept my tutelage."

"I'll keep that offer in mind, so I'm guessing you want me to go and slay some beasts? Help out Yharnam with whatever scourge plagues it tonight?"

Gehrman's eyes widened a little before a crooked smile formed on his face and he nodded while affirming, "Yes, that is what I was going to say. You're quite sharp for a new hunter."

"Well, gentleman I am, I'll take that compliment. So, teach, what wisdom do you have for an outsider such as myself?"

"Oh, not much. I don't even remember the streets or districts of Yharnam anymore, and even if I could I doubt they're still the same. But, I will grant you, Good Hunter, a piece of advice. Thanks to the dream, you need not fear death, as your form in the waking world is more akin to a dream than it is here, in the Hunter's Dream."

"Gotcha, so, should I be on my way for my first taste of vengeance?"

Gehrman's crooked smile was a little too pleased for his liking, but he didn't bother indicating that as the hunter simply stood as the old man lifted a shaking finger over to the tombstone that led back to Yharnam.

"The Tombstones will guide you to the lamps the messengers place for you along your journey. Should you allow them, their prayers will guide you to the first step in your journey tonight."

"Well, I'll be off. Thank you Gehrman."

"You're very welcome Good Hunter. May you have a most fruitful hunt."

Adam made his way over to the tombstone where the messengers prayed and reached out to touch it. As soon as he did, a wordless question formed in his head and he saw the image of Iosefka's clinic. He affirmed wordlessly and felt his form leave the dream, only for his body to collapse to the ground before the tombstone.

When he came to, he was in the clinic and could hear the glowing of the lamp next to him as the messengers prayed around it, perhaps to keep its powers active. But, he was awake, and back in the waking world where he heard down the hall the faint sounds of the beast which had resumed its feast. Instead of heading there to reclaim his revenge, he walked back up the steps to see if he could open the door, only to find it locked. A few knocks later, and he heard footsteps slowly come to the door and a face peaked through the broken window to see who.

"Ah, hello. Have you come for treatment?" a female voice asked. "I'm incredibly sorry, but my current patients cannot be exposed."

"It's fine…I just came back to grab something, a letter that should be on the bed I was lying in. The one behind you."

"Oh, oh dear, are you that hunter who came in to receive a blood transfusion? I am so sorry, I didn't know you were awake. I'll go fetch it for you."

A few steps sounded and Iosefka quickly returned with the letter and a vial of centrifuge purified blood that was mostly plasma by the looks of it. The items were handed through the window and Adam took them before storing them in his belt bag which held his other items.

"It isn't much, but here's some purified blood. Should you need to heal desperately, it will work. Unlike its counterparts it does not contain contaminants that will lead to lycanthropy symptoms. This one's a special experimental vial which can also reverse the progression of beasthood. Best of luck and good hunting, I need to attend to my patients."

With that, Iosefka was gone and a pit formed in Adam's stomach. He wanted to call out to stop her, but before he could he felt something in his head stop him, and he swore under his breath before turning around to release his frustrations on the injured beast. Upon entering the room he looked again at the creature, careful not to step on more glass this time before flipping the switch on his cane and calling out.

"Hey, ugly!"

The beast's head snapped to Adam and gave a few sniffs and a huff before stepping off its meal and sauntering over. He raised his cane and pulled the switch and swung. The threaded cane extended and whipped the beast along the face which made it back away before growling and began to rear up on its hind legs.

Adam reached behind him and pulled out the blunderbuss just in time for the beast to lunge which prompted him to fire the weapon.

A terrible bang rang out as the blunderbuss slammed its flintlock hammer and erupted in a spray of blood infused quicksilver shrapnel which slammed into the beast's face. The shrapnel ripped the fur and skin off, leaving behind gore and fresh hanging viscera which led to the beast's charge being interrupted. Almost like magic, the quicksilver and blood took effect and the beast stood there, stunned. That's when Adam belted his cane and ran up to it. He saw the jugular artery still beating, but when he grabbed it he felt as though he was reaching into the creature itself. He clenched the jugular and the creature howled in pain and panic, unable to move from the quicksilver bullet and he pulled.

Somehow, his hand pulled more than just a piece of the jugular out and viscera piled up in his hand and hooked onto whatever it was attached to. As he pulled, something inside him pushed the beast back and it flopped to its back and tried to get up, blood spurting like a fountain from where one of its most vital arteries had been ripped. It tried to howl, but blood surfaced from its muzzle and fell to the floor before it finally let go and its head thumped to the ground, never again to rise.

As for Adam, he smelled the surprisingly pungent smell of beast viscera and blood through his mask. Something left the beast's blood as it dripped out and he felt a renewed surge of power, and a satisfying dopamine hit came to make him smile under his blood stained mask like a madman as he looked at the lump of viscera he had ripped from the creature and he felt another instinct take over. With a crush, he squeezed the red lump until a red ethereal essence was released and entered his body. Another dopamine hit followed and his tongue and nostrils filled with a sweet taste and smell as the blood sang to him.

It was enough to make a man sick.

Something snapped back into place as he remembered that and he felt human clarity return to his mind which led him to remember how gross the smell actually was, or what little seeped through his heavy mask which made him crave the taste of his own putrid breath over the stench of beast.

Now he knew why the npc's always commented on the player's smell. Beast smelled unique, not so unpleasant that it made it unbearable, but it was certainly noticeable and stuck like cat piss.

Either way, he had a long journey ahead of him, so he reached into his pouch and released a single quicksilver bullet which he reloaded into the blunderbuss before walking to the exit of the clinic.

With a deep breath, he moved to open the door and the disgusting Yharnam wind greeted his eyes to welcome him on his journey.