25Another mass repost from another site, since I may as well do so lmao.
The burning of the Workshop was a sign which signified the end of the night. One in which Gehrman, the First Hunter, had seen countless times. The Old Hunter could not help but to feel weary of the thought; of another night coming to an end.
With a dull turn, the Old Hunter glanced at the outer edges of the field of white lilies, where numerous gravestones surround and contained the field, a testament of contracts which were fulfilled. Their faces have long since faded; yet the names inscribed of the passing Hunters remain prominent after so long. But soon, another shall be added in their place after tonight.
Gehrman sat beneath the great tree, awaiting for the arrival of another, the field of lilies swaying slightly towards the wind brought him a comfort, even if absolutely minuscule, to the terrible situation he had been trapped in for so long. The Old Hunter had watched over the Dream for so long now, so long that he felt he may descend to madness at any moment. Had he know where he would find himself in, he would have never allowed himself to be captivated by... it oh so long ago.
"Gehrman." a voice called out.
The old hunter faced the approaching figure, his 'companion' within this dreamscape. The Doll stood before him, her hands fold into one another while she watched with vacant, yet expected eyes. She was the sole occupant besides him within the Dream, always dutiful in serving many Hunters, channeling the echoes within the blood they have accumulated into their strength. Always providing a brief comfort away from the waking world, her presence was a soothing calm for the many Hunters whom have come and gone. The Doll bowed her head slightly to him, and the old hunter knew.
"It is now time." The Doll spoke softly, her face remained unmoving.
Gehrman merely nodded with slight effort, sensing the coming dawn about to breach. His countless years, or what seemed like years, he had long since forgotten, of service gave him insight on when the cycle came full circle, only for it to repeat itself.
"When the young hunter arrives, send him my way." Gehrman merely ordered with a slight wave of his hand.
The Doll bowed at the order, turning to make her way out of the field to await the incoming Hunter; leaving Gehrman to his thoughts. Out of the countless of Hunters who have come and gone the Dream, Gehrman found it strange for the Hunter of this particular night to be the sole hunter whose memories were erased with the contract. So the Hunt, the Doll, him, and the Dream was possibly the only things he had left, and that will soon be wholly discarded upon his return to the Waking World, but Gehrman felt the decision he will soon make was the best option for them both.
Gehrman heard soft footsteps approach him once more. In the distance, the old Hunter saw his apprentice walking closer, trekking atop the hill through the field of lilies to meet him face to face and cleansed of any blood and gore he may have encountered on his way back to the Dream.
Out of the countless Hunters that came in and out of the Dream, the one before him had been the most accomplished out of the countless. His face hidden by a leather mask, the purpose of which was to prevent contamination from the blood and possible airborne viruses, and tucked under a withered tricorn hat. A large blade which hung on his back, the old hunter recognised to be once claimed by Ludwig, as well as a sheathed katana hanging on his side, the hilt of an intricately designed handgun peeked out from within his coat. This Hunter's grey trench coat, while worn yet still serviceable, hugged a sturdy frame, a complete contrast on what he once looked the first time he traversed to the Dream, which now stood upright and prepared for any scenario.
Gehrman took a deep breath, to prepare for what he would say after.
"Good Hunter, you've done well, the night is near its end. Now I will show you mercy. You will die, forget the dream, and awake under the morning sun. You will be freed from this terrible Hunter's Dream."
Gehrman had spoken these very words over and over to many Hunters, and those whom he had spoken these words had often felt relief of their incoming escape. Yet the eyes shown by the Hunter before him were not of relief as the many who came before him, but of sadness directed towards him.
As if the young Hunter desired to free him from the Dream. Yet... it was a misplaced grief, Gehrman felt. Otherwise, it may interfere.
"You must accept your death, be freed from the night." Gehrman stated with authority, he remained firm, if only for his apprentice. The Old Hunter watched his apprentice lower his head, possibly out of sadness or disappointment, but he nodded regardless.
"Farewell, my keen hunter. Fear the blood." Gehrman said sombrely.
He watched his apprentice turning and kneeling before the lilies, it was then that Gehrman stood from his chair, readying his blade, a vicious looking scythe that had severed many hunters from the dream. A role which it will continue to fulfill until the end of time. Gehrman placed the blade of the scythe by the Hunter's neck, soon poising to strike down his apprentice.
"It will be alright, good Hunter." he said softly to his apprentice.
One swing of his scythe was all it took for the Hunter's connection to the Dream to be cut away for good, the spilled blood stained the lilies, his head rolled and his body fell before the old Hunter, not before quickly disintegrating into Ash. Now he was truly freed from the Dream.
How the Old Hunter longed for the day for his connection to the Dream to be severed also, from a gut feeling, he felt his apprentic- no, his colleague, may have been his only chance to being freed. Gehrman felt the man he had fell was more capable then he was, even during his prime. But this was for the best, should he have been the one unshackled from the Dream, then he would have suffered having to fulfill the role he would have left behind afterwards. But for now, the cycle of the hunt will reset once again, and another apprentice will take the place of the departed.
As per every cycle, Gehrman had a grave erected in memory of the recently departed Hunter alike the many that appeared before him, but the old hunter felt it appropriate for the grave to be placed close to the workshop, where the Doll could closer offer her prayers. It did not take long to notice the hunter had bonded with the Doll, even further then previous hunters; something he would describe as a familial bond for the lack of better terms.
The grave inscribed the Hunter's full name, one which even the Hunter himself oddly did not fully know.
Synthias Ashgrey.
The Doll knelt before the grave, clasping her hands in prayer, "Good Hunter, may you find your worth in the waking world." she said with a longing, sombre tone, holding the hair ornament she was given by the recently departed.
Warm rays of sunlight shone upon the Hunter's eyes, awakening him from what he felt to be his first slumber in a long time.
When he opened his eyes, expecting to awaken in Yharnam to witness the morning sun and start his life anew. What he saw instead was something which left him dumbfounded, quickly he stood up to immediately scan the surrounding area.
Where, or what, was this place?
The environments which surround him was foreign. There were toppled buildings whose heights formerly seemed to reach the skies, albeit destroyed, with architectural style which certainly did not appear to be the buildings of Yharnam, not even in the slightest.
At the spot where the Hunter awoken, he found himself to be within a large crater of sorts, with nature threatening to reclaim its place in the world. He had many questions he was sure he may not receive an answer too.
"HUMAN DETECTED. KILL HUMAN." an unnatural voice called aloud, it did not sound like a voice that naturally comes from a human, and even beast.
Turning to the voice's direction, the Hunter witnessed a strange, sentient... thing, which seemed mechanical in design. What perplexed him was how such machinery seemingly had a life of its own. Before he knew it, he saw more mechanical beings of various sizes heading towards him.
The Hunter instinctively reached out for his weaponry, finding his trusted weaponry to be not on his person except strangely, for only his Evelyn, which he usually kept holstered inside his coat, along with a knife he did not recognise. A slight panic came to the Hunter upon recognising the dire situation against him, but quickly he calmed down and kept himself composed.
While he wanted answers for where he was, and why he did not awaken in Yharnam, that was to come later. The first mechanical being already gave him a hint to what may have happened to the humans of this desolate world, now he prepared himself for the fight ahead. From here on, his survival takes priority.
He sighed.
The work of a Hunter was never done, he supposed.