//------------------------------// // Chapter I // Story: Papa Gehrman // by SolidArc5542 //------------------------------// Princess Celestia walked through the gardens of Canterlot Castle. Her eyes felt heavy and her breathing was slow and soft. It had been a rough couple of days for her. Her niece’s wedding. An invasion on her kingdom. Being defeated by the leader of said invasion. Yep, a rough couple of days indeed. But peace had finally returned to Canterlot. Ponies were still recovering from the invasion, but they all managed to continue their daily businesses. But still. What if it hadn’t turned out the way it did? What if something went wrong? What if the invasion had been a success? She couldn’t bear the thought of what might have happened to her subjects. But luckily for her; Twilight and her friends were there to save the day.. again. She wondered what might had become of Equestria, had Twilight never attended her school for gifted unicorns. Would Nightmare Moon be Equestria’s new ruler? Would Chrysalis be the ‘queen of Equestria’? She thought of the various outcomes. If something were to happen to her student, or the other Elements of Harmony, what would she do? There wouldn’t be another hero to save Equestria. To keep evil at bay and strive for all that is good. There would be no hero to save her. Of course she could fight for herself. She was still an Alicorn, and a very powerful one too. But even she had her flaws. So did her sister. So did her niece. What was she going to do? “Oh Faust,” Celestia said as she looked up at the sky, the moon and stars shining brightly in the dark. “Are we really that desperate?” Sighing to herself, Celestia decided it was time for bed. But before she did, she looked up at the sky one more time, to see a shooting star fly by. Closing her eyes, she made a wish. One simple wish. That Equestria would be safe for all eternity. Gehrman, the First Hunter sat in his wheelchair, his hands intertwined with one another. His eyes open and his breath shallow, he watched as the hunter he had met months ago walked towards him. He remembered it like it was just yesterday, when he first met the hunter. The hunter was young and stubborn. He barely listened to any of the helpful advice Gehrman gave him. He remembered how the hunter kept waking up in Central Yharnam, constantly being shot at by Yharnamites and being attacked by beasts. But no matter how many times he would return to the Hunter’s Dream, the hunter pressed on. Within a day or two, the hunter had successfully defeated the Cleric Beast, obtaining his first badge. The Saw Hunter Badge. Gehrman was proud of the hunter. He had not expected him to slay such a powerful beast in such short time. Most hunters had trouble; even fighting the smallest of beasts. But not this hunter. This hunter was different. Within two weeks the hunter had obtained more hunter badges and slayed even greater beasts. Gehrman swore the hunter tried talking to him, when he was peacefully sleeping in his wheelchair, behind the old workshop in his own little garden. The hunter barely spoke to him after that. The Doll seemed to have grown fond of the hunter. Especially when he gave her that small hair ornament. He would come back, talk to the Doll, strengthen himself, and leave. This left Gehrman thinking. Why was it that this hunter was so persistent? Many hunters before him went into a state of depression, not leaving the dream for weeks, even months. But not this hunter. This hunter pressed on. He fought, he conquered , and he grew stronger. And then it happened. He had slain a nightmare. The hunter had succeeded into doing the impossible. Gehrman knew the night was near its end now. So he burned The Old Workshop, and awaited the hunter at the foot of the great tree. “Old man.” Gehrman’s head shot up as he looked at the figure that stood in front of him. “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 awaken under the morning sun. You will be freed… from this terrible hunter’s dream.” “…No...” Gehrman chuckled as he slowly pushed himself up. “Dear oh dear, what was it? The hunt, the blood, or the horrible dream?” Finally standing at his full height since a very long time, Gehrman looked at the hunter. “Oh, it doesn’t matter,” he said as he reached for his side, grabbing hold of the hilt of his famous trick weapon. “It always comes down to the hunter’s helper to clean up after these sorts of messes.” Unsheathing his Burial Blade, Gehrman combined it to form his trick weapon. A scythe that had taken many lives, of beasts.. and hunters. “Tonight, Gehrman joins the hunt.” Gehrman’s eyes widened when he saw the hunter bow for him. Gehrman took this opportunity to charge at the hunter, making a horizontal slash at the young hunter. The hunter quickly rolled to aside, and successfully cut Gehrman’s side. Gehrman quickly jumped backwards, only to charge at the hunter again, constantly slashing away at him with a combination of horizontal and vertical slices. The hunter felt the sharp blade cut through his Crow Feather attire. Quickly jumping backwards, the hunter injected two blood vials into his right thigh and charged at Gehrman. Gehrman did a vertical slice, only for the hunter to roll underneath it, and do a upwards slash at him. Gehrman stumbled backwards as The Hunter’s Axe cut through his abdomen. Gehrman grunted. There were no blood vials for him, those day were in the past. The hunter formed his trick weapon into its extended form, successfully hitting Gehrman with a combination attack that consisted of a horizontal slash to the left, and a downwards verticals slash. Quickly reaching for his back, the hunter threw an oils urn at Gehrman. Gehrman gritted his teeth as he felt some of the oil entering his open wounds. What was he playing at? Throwing an oil urn at him wasn’t a very smart idea. Sure it stung like hell, but it wouldn’t kill him. Gehrman dashed forwards with incredible speed. Spinning his scythe two times, he stroke the hunter with a horizontal slash, sending him flying. The hunter landed on the flower field, a sickening crack could be heard, echoing through the field. The hunter quickly got up and injected a blood vial into his right thigh, and reached for his back again. Gehrman took this opportunity to dash at the hunter again. A big mistake. The hunter threw a Molotov cocktail at him, successfully hitting the First Hunter. Gehrman let out a scream of agony as the flames burned his body. the oil urn made things even worse. The oil that had gone into his wounds was now burning as well. ‘Clever, good hunter. Very clever.’ Gehrman thought as he turned his back to the hunter, and faced the radiant moon. 'Please,' he whispered. 'Grant me strength.' Gehrman screamed as he felt a sudden rush of energy course through his veins. Turning around to face the hunter, Gehrman grabbed hold of the hilt of his burial blade, as the extended part of his scythe clicked into each other. Attaching the wooden shaft to his back, Gehrman charged at the hunter. Swinging his Burial Blade at the hunter, occasionally getting a good hit on him, Gehrman was beginning to feel tired. He had grown old. His vison wasn’t at its top. His physique hadn’t changed much over time, but he felt exhausted. ‘Have to find strength,’ Gehrman thought as he turned his head to look up at the moon. Nodding to himself, he turned towards the room and started channeling his energy. The hunter could only watch in curiosity and awe as Gehrman, the First Hunter was being covered by some sort of aura. Taking this opportunity, the hunter started slashing away at Gehrman. This slashing continued for two more seconds, until a powerful shock wave sent the hunter flying backwards. The hunter felt an immense pressure on his chest. Getting up and coughing up blood, which now stained the inside of his hunter’s mask, he injected three blood vials into his right thigh. “Raagh!” The hunter had no time to react when Gehrman came (literally) flying towards him. His abdomen was met with a vertical slice of his Burial Blade and the hunter was yet again sent flying. Gehrman transformed his trick weapon back into its scythe form and leaped at the hunter, scythe behind his back. A loud gunshot could be heard. Gehrman had no idea what happened, until he felt a gloved hand enter his side. Gehrman looked down at his side as the hunter ripped out a part of his tissue and blood. Gehrman quickly got onto his feet and did two horizontal slashes at the hunter, but to no avail. The hunter rolled out of the way and made an upwards slash at him. Gehrman had little time to jump aside as the axe made impact with his chest. He could feel his ribs crack, his veins losing blood, his vision fading. Could he finally be freed? Freed from the night. Freed from this terrible nightmare. Would he finally be able to wake up? “Goodbye, old friend.” Gehrman looked at the hunter and felt a sharp pain on the left side of his chest. Looking down at his chest, he saw that it was impaled by a blade. A holy blade to be precise. Looking at the hunter, Gehrman cracked a small, but sincere smile. The hunter retracted the blade from The First Hunter’s chest, looking up at Gehrman with… Regret? Was that regret in his eyes? Gehrman released his grip over his Burial Blade, falling to his knees. “The night… and the dream… were long.” The hunter watched as Gehrman fell to the ground and vanished into thin air. Sighing to himself, the hunter turned his head and looked at the moon. Whatever it was that was descending from the sky, it must have been what Gehrman had told him about once. A Great One. The Great one pulled the hunter closer to itself, wrapping its tentacle like hair around its new child, but something was off. The Moon Presence could feel the part of its first child’s cord in the hunter, the same cord that was used by its first surrogate child to call to it, but it could also feel the presence of Oedon, Kos, and Ebrietas in this hunter. This human had gained so much knowledge from his time in Yharnam that it had transcended much of his humanity. The amount of influence its brethren had bestowed on this human was too much for the Moon Presence to overpower, and the energy it had put into trying to control the hunter was becoming too great; the energy was going to release. The Moon Presence was clearly enraged at the hunter for not grating him his strength. It roared and looked down at the hunter, ready to strike him down. “Foul beast,” the hunter said as tightened his grip around the hilt of his Holy Blade. “Be gone!” And so, with a holy blade, four blood vials, and a promise he made to an old hunter, the hunter charged at the Moon Presence. The night, and the dream were indeed long. But they would finally come to an end. Foul beast, be gone indeed.