Undone by the Blood

by Visiden Visidane

The First Dream

Undone by the Blood

Chapter 3: The First Dream

It's not a bad feeling; dying. The pain of my broken insides subside, and everything's a warm, soft sensation, like being on the verge of falling asleep. I'm floating in a void, cradled by oblivion. The rush of terror, and the sight of that beast, all seems like a distant, bad dream...

The sudden rush of air into my lungs jerks me out of that sensation. My mind, briefly content with not having to worry about living, roars into a flurry of renewed thoughts. I can't be dead if I'm breathing. I can't be dead if I can feel hard, unyielding ground against my belly, and warmth against my skin, while the gentle rustle of a breeze through the leaves reaches my ears. There's more, something...several things are touching me. They feel like tiny hooves brushing against my coat curiously, some trying to push me up. Through it all, I'm surrounded by faint gurglings.

I open my eyes, and try to get up. All I can see are fuzzy blobs of light, and a faint wash of colors. Whatever these things touching me are, however, give startled gurgles before backing off. I blink several times, as if that's going to help my eyes adjust to this brightness. Memories of my final moments start coming back; the smell of burning flesh and fur, Ghast Coin's shout, and the crushing agony of my ribs caving. I wince, and take several deep breaths, thankful even for the air.

My vision starts to clear as the memories recede. Maybe I'm not dead, but I'm certainly not on the Great Bridge anymore. It's too bright; not quite daylight, but certainly a step above the harshly lit nightscape of Ponyville. Not even a whiff of smoke or blood either. Finally, the last blob of light focuses. Immediately, my attention turns towards the things swarming me earlier. This isn't the first time I've encountered them. I'm sure of it. Around six grayish shapes move about my hooves, not quite menacingly, but with rather disconcerting ease. Eventually, they stop milling about so I can look at them.

I nearly recoil from the sight. They resemble ponies, at least in basic form. They trot about on four legs, the shape of their muzzles is all too familiar, and their very tiny ears swivel towards my direction. That's as far as similarities go, however. They're tiny things, barely reaching my knees should they rear up. They don't have a single strand of fur or mane on them, exposing dry, stretched out, gray skin. It's the faces though. They don't have any lips, the skin is simply drawn back to reveal yellowed, uneven teeth. At least, that's for some of them. The others have vertical slits for mouths, without a tooth in sight. Their eyes are beady, yellow,and sunken into their skulls, and their legs are hideously elongated and emaciated, to the point of resembling twigs.

These creatures don't seem bothered by my revulsion, or my staring. Rather, seeing me up seems to excite them further. They gurgle even louder. Two of them nip at the ends of my sleeves, and try to pull me forward. The rest trot on ahead, and wordlessly signal to follow. "Wait," I say to the ones tugging at me. "Where--" The words catch in my throat when I finally take in the sight of where I am.

This can't be Ponyville. Not even close. I'm starting to doubt my first assumptions of being alive. Perhaps, I did die, and this is some kind of paradise. I'm standing on a rough, stone path leading to a nearby white-trimmed, red house on top of a small hill. No ominous stonework here, no sharp, iron fencing, or strange statues. For the first time in a while, I'm greeted by a warm, welcoming sight. On either side of the path is a vast field full of apple trees. Their branches seem to perpetually sway from the soft breeze blowing through, mimicking the soft roar of an incoming tide.

Despite the brightness, I don't see any sun anywhere in the palely lit sky above me. A closer look at the orchard also dampens the welcoming sight with the presence of headstones among the trees. An orchard of apples nourished by dead ponies...the fruit hanging from those branches suddenly seem especially red.

The creatures tug at my sleeves more urgently. Lost yet again, I let them lead me on to that building. The front doors are wide open, and the creatures crowd around, gesticulating wildly at me. The interior enhances the light streaming in from the windows with several lit lanterns. This can't be an abandoned place then, somepony's bothered keeping those lanterns lit.

One look at the interior tells me another thing. This is a barn...or was a barn. The wide open space and general structure is a giveaway. There's also the repurposed stalls, now containing rather haphazardly stacked books.

My gaze focuses on the pony standing near one of those book piles.

It's a mare with a grayish coat, and a short mane and tail that came out in dark and light gray bands. She's wearing, oddly enough, a pair of blue shorts with white polka dots. She's leaning over a topped pile of books, daintily restacking them until one of the creatures trots over to her side and pulls at her foreleg. She stares at the creature for a second, then turns to face me with a pair of lavender eyes.

"Uh...hello?" I say tentatively. As a stranger having barged into somepony's property, I should be introducing myself. Unfortunately, I don't have a name to offer. The mare answers with a blank stare and a slight tilt of her head. "I'm a stranger to this place." That's hardly an adequate introduction, but it's the best I can offer without lying. "Could you tell me where I am?"

The mare doesn't reply. She keeps on staring with those unblinking eyes, that I'm reduced to fidgeting. The creatures mill around us excitedly. One of them appears to be getting smaller, until I notice that its legs have actually gone through the floor. This doesn't seem to stop it from still running about. The others are doing the same thing. They sink and rise through the wooden floor as easily as if they're moving through water.

A minute passes by, I guess. The mare never says a thing. How she can keep those eyes open without a single blink for so long is outright baffling. I take a step back, and bow slightly. "My apologies," I say. "I must be keeping you from your work." Still no reply. I'm better off exploring then. The the faint squeaks of wheels turning on their axles brings me up short.

"Howdy."

Finally, somepony to speak to. I turn around, barely able to hide my relief. "Pardon me for intruding," I say. "I've lost my way, and I'd just like to know where I am. "

It's immediately obvious where the tiny squeak came from. The pony that had arrived behind me is sitting on a wheelchair. The mare sitting on the chair though.

She presents a rather plain sight; an orange coat, a long mane tied off at end. Age has clearly whitened most of the strands, as the heavy lines around her green eyes would suggest, but there's still a few locks of blond hair among them. A beat up, brown hat rests on her head, its brim notched in several places. Her left hind leg had been replaced by a long, wooden peg, likely the reason she's on the chair. The warm smile on her partly cracked lips puts me at ease. I may be assuming too much, but it feels good to be welcome after Ponyville's reception.

"Ya ain't lost if you're here," she says. She glances at my cutie mark. "You must be the new hunter. Name's Applejack, and welcome to Sweet Apple Acres. Course, you'll better know it as the Hunter's Workshop."

I look around again. The warm breeze blows through the open doors and windows, causing a lot of metallic rattling above me. A look up reveals dozens of blades hanging by the rafters; wickedly jagged saw blades, axe blades, even the curving edge of what I'd guess is the head of a scythe. Various wooden handles also hang among them.

"Oh, those ones ain't ready," Applejack says.

I give a start, suddenly aware that I'm being rude. "I'm sorry," I say. "I can't remember my name so..."

Applejack shakes her head. "Don't worry about it," she says. She looks to her side just as some of the creatures trot past her. "Oh, they've got the stuff already! Go on, and try them out."

A veritable crowd of these strange grey creatures gather around me, gurgling excitedly, and working together to hold out various objects. The nearest is a set of folded clothes, along with a hat. Several belts extend from the folds, propped up by more of those spindly forelegs. I look to my own clothes. Sure, they worn, disheveled, bloody, and torn in various places, but they're still serviceable. I look to Applejack. "Why are you offering me clothes?" I ask.

"'Cause you'll need them," Applejack replies. "A hunter needs to be dressed all proper." She clicks her tongue at my outfit. "Those rags won't stand against the beasts. Now, go on." She gestures at me with a foreleg, and I pick up the outfit. I have more questions, but, for all her gentle prodding and warmth, there's a sense of sternness underneath. It's in her physique too. She's worn, and obviously old, not to mention missing a hind leg, but those forelegs, and neck, look wiry and tough, and those eyes are bright and alert. I don't think I'll be leaving this place without doing what she asks.

The outfit is mostly thick, but surprisingly flexible, gray-green leather. There's a long coat that covers my back and sides, but splits at the bottom end to let my tail through, its high collar covers my neck, but flexes enough to let me turn my head from side to side, the whole thing is secured by tying a Belt running diagonally across my chest. Underneath is a leather chest piece secured by a trio of belts. Over it is a short cape that covers my shoulders and secured by a silver chain. Thick leather bindings protect my fetlocks and most of my hooves. Of course, there's the pants, also sturdy and easy to move around. In fact, this is getting suspicious. The whole outfit is perfectly sized for me, down to the last inch. I stare suspiciously at the little creatures, then at Applejack. Had they been expecting me? Does she know my name?

Applejack is still all smiles. "Now, you're looking the part," she says. She taps her hat to get me to put mine on. It's a simple, triangular thing, angled slightly downward to protect the eyes, I suppose. Several withered feathers stick out on top of it. What they're for escapes me. That still leaves me with a long piece of cloth. I hold it up to Applejack with a quizzical look. "For your muzzle." She pantomimes wrapping something across her face, so I do as she asks. I expected to have trouble breathing, but the cloth allows my breath through without even a slight resistance. "Catch that scent?" she asks. I nod. There's a faint smell of apple blossoms on the cloth. "Helps with the stink of blood."

"Now, I'm dressed up," I say. "Can you explain now?"

She turns her nose up proudly. "You bet," she says. "I designed that myself. I ain't no trend-setting fashionista." Her voice softens at that, but quickly perks up again. "But I can do practical. That outfit won't save you from eight-inch fangs, but it'll help with the scratches, and the smaller beasts, and fire, and lightning. Blood'll stick, but never soak, and you can move around like you're wearing nothing!"

"That's not what I meant," I say. "Why did you make me wear this?"

Applejack tilts her head at that. "You still on that?" she asks. "You're a hunter, that's what hunters wear."

"How do you know I'm a hunter?" I ask. "I don't even know who I am! Do you know something? And why am I here? I died!"

All I get from my outburst is a rather patronizing look, as if I'm the only pony in the world without a clue. Of course, that could well be true. "You still on that?" Applejack asks. "I dunno who you were, but that don't matter one lick now." She points at my flank. "That's not your cutie mark. Whatever it was, it's gone now. Along with whoever you were. That mark means you're a hunter. So go on, and kill a few beasts. It's just what hunters do!"

"What if I don't want to kill beasts?" I ask.

"Then, they'll kill you." Applejack gestures to the building around her. "There ain't any answers for you here, new hunter. If you can't let those questions go, you'll have to go back to Ponyville. There, you have to kill beasts."

Ponyville...just the thought of its ominous architecture saps the warmth of this place. "The Church of Harmony," I say. "Will they have answers?"

The smile completely fades from Applejack. "They should. Having answers is what they're good at...least, that's what they say. Honestly, I think they've done more to muck things up than find answers, but they're more likely to help you than sitting here."

"And what do I get from sitting around here?" I ask. "This seems like a nice place; warm, comfortable, no horrible beasts out to kill me."

A dark shadow falls over Applejack. Her eyebrows furrow, and her eyes narrow. "You have no idea what you'll get if you decide just to stay here," she whispers. "Be happy you don't."

After a moment to get the sudden chill out of me, I let out a long sigh. "Alright, I will go to Ponyville if the Church if Harmony's still my best bet."

The smile comes back in an instant. Applejack claps her front hooves together. "Great," she says. She looks back to the other items that the creatures were carrying, and I follow her gaze. I had almost forgotten that they had other things. "'Course, looking like a hunter's just one thing. You need to fight like one too. The Workshop's got you covered there. Go on, pick one. It's our traditional tools."

The creatures are holding up an all too familiar axe, what appears to be a hacksaw with an oddly positioned handle, and a metallic walking cane. Behind these three, they hold a pistol, and a blunderbuss. I remember Ghast Coin again. One for close quarters, and a gun then. I pick up the axe with my mouth. If this is the same design, the handle should extend. A few practice swings make it clear how heavy it is.

"Good for chopping off some beastly heads, right?" Applejack asks. "Or chopping down trees." She looks wistfully at the orchard outside. "Execution's an ugly job, but necessary. Some hunters carry that to show they're willing to get their hooves dirty."

A flick of my neck extends the handle so I'm holding a pole-axe. Wait...how did I know how to do that? Before I can ponder, the heavy head quickly drags on the ground. "Heavy," I say. "I'll swing slow with this thing. Power's good, until something rips my guts out while I'm winding up." I offer the axe back to the creatures, who take it with a gurgle of disappointment. Next, I hold the cane in my mouth. Up close, it's easy to see the sharp edges of the shaft. This thing is easily a medium-length sword.

"How's that?" Applejack asks. "A lot lighter, right?"

"A cane is an odd design," I reply.

"It's elegant and formal," Applejack says. "An old friend of mine came up with the idea." She suddenly takes on this exaggerated, rather pompous tone, something like a noblemare's speech. "'Applejack, hunters should fight with elegance and grace, so they always remind themselves that they will never become like the beasts they're fighting."

The sight of those deformed ponies, with the twigs sticking out of their bodies, and their manes infested with leaves, flashes in my mind. Then, there's also the axe-swinging Ghast Coin, laughing while drenched in blood. "That does sound like something to consider," I say.

Applejack nods. "I agreed. That cane is one of her better ideas."

"What were the bad ones?" I ask. Stupid question, but there's that curiosity again. When Applejack wrinkles her nose, I fear for a moment that I've upset her.

"Top hats," she says.

I slash and stab with the cane. It's definitely more maneuverable, though I worry how well it can punch through the hide of something like that huge beast that...well...that killed me. My tongue brushes against a small switch on the handle. When I flick it, the bladed shaft suddenly separates into bladed segments connected by a flexible metal wire.

"Clever, huh?" Applejack says. "It takes some skill to use it, but it sure does keep beasts at a distance."

The bladed whip lashes out in a graceful arc, easily covering several feet in front of me. I don't know what to marvel at first; the ingenious construction, or the fact that I didn't slice my ear off with such a daring strike with an unfamiliar weapon. Maybe I'm a natural, but my thoughts turn darkly towards what Applejack said earlier. The hunter's mark has replaced my cutie mark. Maybe it replaced what natural talents I had with familiarity with these traditional tools. Or added to them. I hope for the latter. As for the whip, I can imagine that even a beast will hesitate to close in on me for fear of getting its face sliced up. Provided we're in a wide open space, though. Having these links snag on something will pose a big problem.

The creatures gurgle again when I return the cane to them. A pull on the same switch retracts the wire, to bring the segments back together. That leaves the hack saw with the wooden handle parallel with the curved saw edge. The wooden grip fits snugly in my mouth. I can rip through woody flesh by swinging my neck with this. The range is pretty short, but the blade is lighter. There's an obvious folding joint by one side if this weapon. A simple flick, and a light touch of a release catch on the handle folds the saw edge over, exposing the straight edge on the other side, and extending the weapon's reach as much as the pole-axe. Unlike the pole-axe, the bladed end doesn't cause the weapon to dip. I swing the extended blade a few times, pleased with both the reach and the weight.

"Like it?" Applejack asks. "It's one of my favorite designs. The saw teeth's great for cutting through wood and opening nasty wounds. The straight edge slices smoothly through the air so you can swing faster. The extension gives it more punch too."

"I like it," I reply. "I'll pick this one." The creatures throw their front hooves up in the air to celebrate, then carry away the other two weapons. That leaves the guns. They come with special harnesses, and wheel holsters to allow me to fire them without gripping.

"Pistol's lighter, quicker on the draw, punches deeper, and is more accurate," Applejack says. "Blunderbuss stops beasts in their tracks better, and has a wider spread. Your choice."

I've seen the blunderbuss in action. I know the gruesome wounds a spray of fragments can cause. I also know that it took Ghast Coin time to adjust, aim, and fire. I remember the damage a flung cleaver can do to the right spot as well. Accuracy seems the better choice for me so the choice is easy.

"Now, you're ready," Applejack says as I fiddle with the harness. A dozen bullets line one strap of the thing. They're quite strange for bullets, though. They're silvery, and have these deep grooves carved into them. Applejack notices my curious inspection. "Normal bullets aren't enough. You let some of your blood collect in those grooves to really give your shots some punch." She gestures towards one of the workbenches in the building. "Feel free to use the stuff in the workshop." With that, she turns her wheelchair around, and starts to leave. "Even the doll," she adds.

"Wait," I call out to her. "How do I even get back to Ponyville?"

"The doll can tell you," Applejack says with a yawn. "I need a nap."

Even most of the creatures disperse, by running off or just sinking into the ground.

First things first. I sit by the workbench Applejack pointed out. The scattered tools look vaguely familiar. At the same time, I get the sense that they're incomplete. Let my blood collect in those grooves, she says. How does blood help hurt these beasts? I shrug, then take up one of the many bladed instruments on the bench. A small cut later, and I'm watching the silvery bullets take on a crimson hue. Once, all of them are treated, I take a look around.

I don't see any dolls in this workshop. Even if I did, how can a doll tell me anything? The only thing here that can do that is...

Once more, I focus on the gray mare with the polka dotted shorts. She had stopped fiddling with the boots, instead just standing by one corner, and staring. She suddenly bows low when I approach, startling me in the process. So she does react after all.

"Hello, good hunter," the mare says. She has a soft voice, nice on the ears though a little flat with how she speaks. "I am a doll, here to serve you."

"Serve me?" I ask. "What do you mean?"

"Whenever you are drenched with blood, the lives of your prey shroud you with their strength. I can turn that strength into yours."

Suddenly, the doll kneels before me, and takes one of my front hooves upon hers. Before I can react, a swirl of red mist surrounds us both, before coaelscing upon me. I draw a sharp breath, as an invigorating flood of warmth fills me. My body feels lighter, and my senses renewed.

"You are still new to the Hunt, and have not brought down much prey," the doll says. "Good hunter, come back to me as you slaughter more beasts, I shall be here for you, to embolden your sickly spirit."

It takes a while for me to answer between my panting. The sensation goes as quickly as it came, replaced now by the dull ache of wanting more. Turning their strength into mine...I'm not sure what that truly means. Instinct simply tells me that I'm better off now than before she did that. The doll continues to stare at me blankly. "What's your name?"

The doll tilts her head slightly. "I am a doll, here to serve you."

I glance back, towards the direction Applejack had wheeled off. Is this what she meant by "using" the doll? And how can this be a doll? She looks like a normal, living pony putting on a show about being a doll. I shake my head. "There are no answers here," as Applejack had said. Dolls, mysterious barns, strange powers only add more mysteries. I need to find some answers or be buried in all this. "Do you know the way to Ponyville?" I ask.

The doll points a hoof towards the orchard. "One of the grave stones," she says. "Touch them, and you will awaken in Ponyville."

The strangeness just keeps piling. Even questioning it seems more and more futile. I'll just give it a try then. I can only hope that my next visit to Ponyville proves more fruitful.

Comments

[Jake The Army Guy]

Makes sense. Applejack would be the kind to sacrifice herself and stay within the Dream until the Hunt can finally end. Can't wait to see what the Good Hunter can do now that he has his tools.

Saw cleaver and pistol? Fucking plebe. Axe/Blunderbuss FTW...

[Jonathon Smythe]

Boy, that doll is a real... know-it-all. What, expected something different?

[Reader Review]

A very clever interpretation of the Hunter's Dream and it occupants. I really enjoy how you are combining the lore of both series into something that is familiar yet different.

[SweetAutumns]

6555824
Nah, blunderbuss is nice and the axe is amazing, but I always preferred the whip for its speed and move set and the pistol because the faster draw allowed for tighter timings on a parry. Besides, the rifle spear is a shotgun halberd that scales with skill - it's the best of all the weapons I've just listed (except the pistol) and scales with skill so that it can be paired with the blade of mercy and encourages leveling your bloodtinge so that you can properly use the Evelyn alongside the spear.
Though I agree that the saw cleaver is pretty pointless.

[stringtheory]

Wow, another chapter within the month, well done.
Not having played Bloodborne meant most of this chapter went over my head, but I think I get what's happening.

[DannyJ]

Your comment earlier today reminded me that I still had this story on my list, and I've actually had the chance to play Bloodborne since I added it, so here I am!

So, overview. Present tense is an interesting choice. Took me a while to get into it, but I think I'm at the point now where it works for me. I can think of a few reasons that it would be advantageous for a story like this. On the other hand, I'm not fond of the pacing. It's okay by this point, but for the first proper chapter, it felt like we covered a little too much ground for the word count. After we meet Ghast Coin, the lovingly detailed fight scenes bring it down to acceptable level, and I like that we had a whole chapter dedicated to the Hunter's Dream, but covering Iosefka's Clinic, the first encounter with the beastly townsfolk, meeting Gilbert, and meeting Ghast Coin in one less than 5K chapter seems excessive.

For the ponifications, so far, I'm a little underwhelmed. I trust that you have a lot of worldbuilding and backstory planned out to explain how we got from canon MLP to this setting, but at present time, the Bloodborne half of the crossover seems to have subsumed the fic almost entirely. The order of events has changed, but for the most part, the story at present reads like a novelisation of the game with a few name changes. Gascoigne to Ghast Coin, Yharnam to Ponyville, Healing Church to Church of Harmony, and hands to hooves.

The only real significant changes so far are the beasts all sharing motifs with the timberwolves, and Gherman and the Hunter's Dream being Applejack and Sweet Apple Acres. And even there, I feel like AJ is too much like regular Gherman, since it doesn't seem very much like her to fob off the protagonist's questions about his lost identity and just tell him to get to killing beasts, especially since it's obvious that she does have some answers. I'd expect her to be more sympathetic to his situation than that. Still, these changes are interesting, and I eagerly await whatever revelations about those elements the plot will bring.

Minor notes:

Ghast Coin moves through the streets like he's walked them hundreds of times before, but I have to note that his clothes are quite different from the ones I've seen the ponies of this place where.

Spelling mistake here. Also, Ponyvillians is uncapitalised in a few places in this chapter.

"Be at peace in death, umbasa."

Vis, you're getting some Demon's Souls on my Bloodborne cross...

Woah, deja vu.

Well, that's quite thrilling.

This made me laugh more than it should've.

"I like it," I reply. "I'll pick this one."

What kind of sick individual picks the saw spear? He deserves to get eaten by beasts after that. Hunter axe master race.

Anyway, that's all for now. Despite my quibbles, I'm very much liking the story so far, and I look forward to seeing what you do with it from here. You're a decent writer, and you've got a passion for the Souls series, so the prospect of a story like this with you at the helm is an appealing one. My only advice is to try not to be predictable. I'm sure you've got a few surprises and clever worldbuilding explanations up your sleeve already, but just consider dropping them a little earlier if it looks like there's going to be a long stretch of chapters like these where the crossover is especially faithful.

I'll be waiting on that next chapter, Vis. Shine on, you crazy diamond.

[Follower of Chaos]

So Applejack as Gehrman, interesting choice to say the least. Personally I would have gone with Luna, just seems to fit a lot more than Applejack giiven her being trapped in the moon, having a dark and not very innocent past, being the mistress of dreams and generally being more proactive than Celestia. I really hope she's not the Moon Presence, that would suck.

Current predictions.
Celestia - Master Wilhem
Luna - Rune smith Caryll
Cadence - Vileblood Queen
Shining Armor - Logarius
Twilight - Vicar Lawrence
Rainbow - Ludwig
Rarity - Lady Maria
Fluttershy - Eileen (Hunter of Hunters)
Pinkie Pie - Micolash

See how right or wrong I am as I continue.