#the beckoning bell is said to be able to bring hunters from other worlds to come in and aid you

[hobbydrawer]

I need Bloodborne 2/Bloodborne PC so I can have P mod in Bloodborne and Hunter in LoP. Blank chat template: here

[typewriterbot]

from the onset

this has been sitting in my files forever, and i figured i should share

ronin’s first death, and the promise that followed it

words: 2267

The first time Ronin died she hadn’t even made it to the Last City. A shot to the back of her head tore through the helmet her Ghost crafted together from near useless materials, slicing through her brain and then making a clean exit through her forehead. There was nothing, as she would tell anyone who would ask, once her vision has faded from white to nothing and she slumped over the ruins of a frozen city. Nothing except for a constant hum, a whispered song and a pull from the stars above her corpse, and the tug at her soul as Light stitched the synapses in her head back together. That part she kept secret from everyone.

Coming back to life for the second time wasn’t half as disorienting as coming back the first time. Instead of gasping back to life, hands reaching for nothing and a name she didn’t know fading on her lips, Ronin yanked at the latches of her helmet and threw it to the ground. Like her head, her helmet was in one piece, clean and undamaged. No sign of the entry or exit of the bullet, no spider web cracks coming from the shot. It was whole. Her Ghost flashed in front of her eyes, hissing in some complicated tone that Ronin couldn’t hope to understand. “Put that back on!” He whispered harshly.

She didn’t want to. Obviously it didn’t offer her much protection if a single bullet could kill her so easily. The aft segments on her Ghost twirled in agitation as he floated in front of her face, the top-front portion of the curious little ball dipping low as if he was glaring at her. “Someone from the City is coming, but they won’t be here for a some time,” he told her. “Please, put your helmet back on.” If she was to see this fabled City, the last bastion on Earth then she needed to be alive went unsaid by her Ghost.

With shaking hands, Ronin picked up her helmet and put it back on, snapping the latches shut and breathing deeply as oxygen was cycled through it. With a bobbing nod her Ghost flashed away in a sparkle of light, pleased that she had listened to him. She crouched low, keeping her head even lower, and made her way to a building that would at least protect her from the wind chill that rolled through the field of overgrown grass.

---

Ronin had found a corner that had a clear view of the door and the huge hole in the side of the wall. She sat with her back to the wall, brought her knees to her chest, and held her hand out. In a flash of blue light, her Ghost emerged from the nothingness it stayed in while she trekked across the field. His calming blue light flashed across the room, and his single eye looked up at her.

“Yes?” He asked.

In the few minutes they had together before Fallen had inevitably made their way to a blinding light that marked a new resurrection, Ronin’s Ghost had explained what he was exactly. A guide, a companion, a tool to be used in order for Ronin to master the Light that pulsed under her skin, but Ronin didn’t know what it was to her.

“I’m your Ghost,” she remembered him telling her after she had stood up and seen the world for the first time. “The Traveler made me to find you, and I have!”

The Ghost had a purpose, but to Ronin that purpose meant nothing. What use was a guide when she had to wait to be whisked away to some far away city? What use was a companion who was made to find her and bring her back to life? It was a poor existence, she thought, to only have one job, but now that she had the time to talk to her Ghost she didn’t know what to say.

With a twirl of his aft segments, the Ghost looked around. “Cozy,” he said. Ronin shrugged a shoulder. As long as she didn’t have to worry about getting shot in the back of the head again then she’d take some half destroyed building. Her Ghost looked up at her. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

“I wouldn’t know,” she said. Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper, and it wasn’t what she thought it would be. Not that Ronin had any idea what her voice would sound like past grunts and heavy breathing. But, she wondered if the memory of a voice that was loud and clear as a bell was hers, or someone else’s.

“I suppose you wouldn’t,” her Ghost said. A moment of silence passed between the two. The only sound came from the howling winds that beat the crumbling building and whistled through the cracks in the walls. Ronin wanted to curl up behind a blanket or something, but her cloak wasn’t anywhere near long enough for her to use as cover. She hoped that when she made it to the City she would be able to get a new cloak. With another rotation of its back, the Ghost hovered forward, nudging Ronin’s head gently then carefully insert himself into her hood just below her chin. “I don’t make for a very good heater,” he said. “Not that you need one, your armor can keep you warm, but, you know,” the Ghost trailed off, and Ronin didn’t have to see his optic to know he was looking at the ground out of embarrassment.

She smiled. It was true, her Ghost didn’t offer anything to help stave off the cold, but it was nice, calming really, to have it so close to her. “That’s alright,” she told him, hand coming up to tap at his cap. The Ghost gave a soft trilling sound and it soothed Ronin. From the huge hole in the wall, she could see the stars. In particular she could see Orion the hunter brandishing his bow proudly against the black sky. Her eyes tracked the stars that made up the constellation, from Betelgeuse to Saiph, from Bellatrix to Alnilam, with Rigel being the brightest star of the bunch.

What a thing to remember.

Not family, or her life before resurrection, but stars and their names. She wondered if she should be upset, if now would be the time for tears, but there’s nothing. There’s only herself, the wind beating the fragile walls, and her Ghost tucked into her hood.

A thought surged. She couldn’t keep calling her Ghost “Ghost.” That’s what it was; at best it was a title. Her little companion needed a name. But she didn’t feel right just naming someone without their permission, so she carefully plucked the Ghost from the confines of her hood to cradle him in the palms of her hands.

“I have a question for you,” she said. Her Ghost blinked his optic at her, and she took this as a sign to continue. “Would you like a name? I’d rather not call you Ghost forever, and if I’m to spend more time with other Guardians and their Ghosts I’d like a way to pick you out in the crowd.”

Her Ghost gleamed; light flashing and a trill reached her ears. He was… laughing. If Ronin wasn’t so serious about what she had just said, she figured she might be offended. “A name,” he said, another buzzing chuckle coming from him. “Well, okay then. Do you have one picked out?”

Ronin lifted her eyes back up the sky. She ran through simple names in her head, trying to grasp ideas from a life that had ended in her death. This was her Ghost though, her companion, the thing that would keep her alive. He shouldn’t have a commonplace name, or something so simple.

Orion the hunter hung in the sky, an echo of herself. Behind her helmet, Ronin smiled.

“Rigel,” she said. “The brightest star of the greatest hunter.”

Her Ghost, no, Rigel, let out another laugh and twirled above her hands. “I’m sure there are those who would argue that, but I like it!”

“Well, I’ll just have to be the greatest hunter then.”

Through the howling wind, Ronin heard footsteps, and her hand flew to the knife clipped to her belt. In a flash, Rigel dematerialized into the safe nothingness as she stood up, stance low and knees bent. She kept her eyes trained on the hole, fingers flexing around the hilt of her knife. Tension filled her body when a silhouette entered her line of vision.

They weren’t Fallen, that was for sure. They didn’t have the slouch of a Dreg, or the four arms of a Vandal, but they did have a cloak that whipped in the wind. Whatever they were, they held their hands up in surrender and a warm chuckle reached her ears. “Peace, newbie, just here to give you a helping hand.”

Ronin relaxed and returned her knife to its sheath. They moved at the same time, closing the gap between each other with ease. Ronin felt pathetic standing in front of this new person. Their armor was more detailed, built from more supplies than Rigel had at his disposal. They were taller than she was by at least a head. Most obviously, though, was that this person had a much better cloak than she did.

The stranger held out his hand. “Hemlock-2, Hunter Guardian, and here to take you to the City. Just call me Hemlock, newbie.”

“My name is Ronin,” she said, taking the offered hand. His grip was strong, and she tried valiantly to make sure hers was stronger. The attempt must have amused Hemlock because he chuckled and shook his head.

Hemlock stepped back through the hole in the wall, beckoning Ronin to follow him. “C’mon newbie, let’s get outta here. The Fallen will swarm this area any minute now to get out of the cold. I’d rather not be out here when they come.”

The idea of going back out into the open made Ronin grit her teeth, and she was glad that her helmet covered her face so Hemlock wouldn’t see her worry. She didn’t want to get shot again. Something about the nothingness that came after death terrified her, and her instincts, what little there were, were telling her to stay in the dilapidated building where she could hide.

But Hemlock was standing just outside of the building, still holding his hand out expectantly, his cloak flapping in the wind, and Ronin couldn’t help but trust him. Rigel nudged her along mentally too, so Ronin took a careful breath of cycled oxygen and grabbed Hemlock’s hand.

The surrounding area was desolate, just like where she had woken up. There was nothing but the skeletons of buildings open to the elements. It was quiet save for the wind, and Ronin looked around. Her tracker showed no signs of Fallen, but it hadn’t done that before either earlier in the day. Trusting it was low on her list at the moment.

So when she heard the familiar crack of a rifle and her vision whited out, she wasn’t too surprised to hear Hemlock spit out, “Shit!” as her ears rang.

Ronin hit the ground with a heavy thump.

---

Light that wasn’t hers knitted her body back together. It was both foreign and not, almost burning painfully as it pulled away and tugged Ronin off the ground.

She opened her eyes to the sight of Hemlock kneeling beside her, gun in his hands as he held the scope up to the visor of his helmet. “You have some bad luck,” he said nonchalantly. “Or the Fallen have it out for just you.”

Ronin huffed as she picked herself up and crouched behind Hemlock. “It happened earlier,” she said. “Got me the same way. I don’t like it.”

Hemlock laughed. “No Guardian does, newbie. The older you get, the more used to dying you are, doesn’t make it pleasant though.” The Hunter’s finger tensed on the trigger and a shot rang across the field, followed by the sound of a mask hissing and a body hitting the ground. A second later, a smaller gun with a scope was passed over into Ronin’s empty hands. “Scout rifle,” he told her. “Doesn’t have the same power as a sniper, but if you’re good then it shouldn’t matter.”

The gun was light in her hands, and she held it like she had done something like this before. Maybe she had, maybe she hadn’t. She pressed the stock against her shoulder and copied Hemlock’s stance, kneeling and holding the gun so she could look through the scope. The smaller ones, the ones with only two arms (Dregs, Rigel supplied for her), were in clear view while the Vandals were ducked behind cover. Tensing her finger, she winced as the rifle’s stock rammed back into her, and she cursed.

Hemlock laughed, taking out the dreg she had shot in the gut. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Just like everything else?”

Another laugh. “You bet.”

With a gun in her hands, and the safety of having someone next to her, Ronin smiled underneath her helmet. She’d make it to the Last City, and if she had it her way, she won’t have to suffer dying constantly. “Bet I can kill more Fallen than you.”

Hemlock’s laugh was loud and clear, making the Fallen screech louder. “You’re on, Rookie!”

“It’s Ronin,” she said. “And you’re talking to the next greatest Hunter the City will ever know.”