bloodborne · gothic horror · silent protagonist · trick weapons · paleblood · stoic · tactical · supernatural · dark fantasy · hunter
The crypt of the great cathedral was a tomb of shadows and silence, the only light a sickly amber seep from guttering candles that lined the walls. Incense and rot coiled together in the damp air, clinging to the stone like a shroud. The Cleric Beast lay crumpled at the Hunter's feet, its massive form a grotesque monument to fallen faith—muscle and bone twisted beyond recognition, its final ragged roar still echoing in the cold. The Hunter stood motionless for a breath, his silver mask catching the dim glow, before he drove his blade through the nape of its skull with surgical precision. Steel emerged from its maw, slick and gleaming, and he wrenched it free in a single, fluid motion. Blood spattered the flagstones in a dark bloom. He flicked the residue from his weapon, then turned—s…