Dark, Bloodied characters in Remnant

Chapter 16

Hello! I am very excited to bring to you; the very first (In what should be several) Bloodborne/RWBY X-over featured in this series!

N-JOY

remember that i actually do not own the RWBY or the Bloodborne franchise/s.

It was a nice day in Vale. It was a nice day in reality. The concept of warmth was one that was common in every living thing, and was almost associated with the glorious sun that deserved its praises in the old days.

There weren't many elderly found within the town, and most often kept to the indoors, where the god-like A/C would manipulate the inside to the preferred temperature.

But for one man, the cold filled him so much that warmth was just a far-off possibilty now, a fleeting dream. He dressed in a shriveled man's cloak, similar to what a vampire hunter would wear when the moon turns red. An large, ruined cape's ripped material would sway with every slight movement made by the old man, who's ancient legs only allowed for feeble movement. It's interior displayed a red that was so faded, it started to gray. It would become black once it became the exterior.

The aged man kept a top hat so old, one would easily be able to see the dust of age that fell upon the accessory. With white hair befitting his age, he patiently sat against a seat that was reserved for the elderly, and awaited the lifting of the flying ship that would take him to his destination. He kept the palms of his hands on the handle of a support cane, as his preffered sitting postition was one that had him lean forward.

He was missing a leg, but it was not immediately obvious, as his once-bright red trousers, now faded and frayed, covered much of the lost appendage. It was replaced by the limb one would most associate with pirate captains in the old tails of Captain Sparroe.

From the elder's age, everything about the town was often a sensation to lay eyes upon. Weather it was accredited to the beautiful sun, or the fact that the people were just so free, the city was a wonderful place to be. The last time he saw this many people in one place, the stench of blood and the snarls of beasts were within earshot. One radical difference noticed by the senior; was that some of the citizens inherited the traits of wild animals on their bodies.

What a world.

Earlier in the day, he had laid his eyes upon the frighteningly new and capable square, usually rectangle-shaped things that featured the moving mugs of all kinds of people and all kinds of things.

One specific piece of information he picked up from them was that the high academy was looking for Hunters with enough time on their hands to go up against the younger generation who would become the Hunters & Hunters of tommorow. Old habits kicked in when mentions of the younger generation were heard, him being the kind of person he is, the elder Hunter could have jumped at the opportunity to school the young. But only after asking the kind young sonnies and dearies on directions towards the location.

For the most part, the torch of the Hunter carried on from his time. One who would fight back the evil beasts who seek to devour mankind, as well as it's progression towards any kind of improvement. But, there were myriads upon myriads of distinctions between this elder's kind of Hunter, and the Hunters & Huntresses of the modern day.

For one, the threat of evil looms around the settlement of men at all times, not just when the night of the hunt would be called.

His wrinkled ears heard a whining that heightened pitch over time, and felt the machine shift with it's take-off. The side doors closed, leaving a still quiet within the passenger space. There was a space where the passenger could communicate with the pilot, if one so chooses, and the pilot was willing.

The pilot's voice was a man's, and was jovial in tone. Heard loud and clear in the otherwise hushed expanse.

"So, old man, you look like you've got some stories in you. It's not a long ride, but it's been a long day for me, so tell me one of 'em. No-one else is here, and don't worry; I'll be sure to keep 'em quiet, hehe"

The old man looked up, taken from what could have been a little nap, and offered a chance conversation with a young 'un. It was a rare thing for the aged citizen, especially for him. In a frail voice, he answered.

"Ahh. Afternoon, sonnie. My name is...ah...Gehrman. Now, what to share..."

At his age, even the action of speaking became a challenge at times.

"I'LL RACE YA TO THE TOP!"

"Huh?"

Nora screamed at her seven friends, challenging them all to a grand race to the very top of the practice room's dark seats. Ultimately, only a single opponent appeared, the older sibling of a girl.

The youngest of the group of friends sighed at how childish her sibling could be. Usually, the one running up the stairs would be her, but she just wasn't feeling it today.

The two pushed and shoved each other to the highest row of seats, where the victor will be crowned as ruler, and granted eternal glory. Where one suffered a slip-up, the other capitalised. Where many saw childish acts, others saw humor in the two, and giggles filled the practice room.

But, as their less energetic friends climbed the stairs like normal people, same their fellow beacon students, the head of the class session had arrived and stood on the elevated platform. The battle ground that would turn two students into two foes.

But today, it would go a little bit different. As the spots started to carry more and more students on it's back, the teacher waved her manipulation tool, a wand of sorts, and fixed her glasses with a gloved hand.

"Attention students..."

...

!

"MISS VALKYRIE AND MISS LONG!"

The two tomboys stopped fake-fighting the other, and faced forwards, prompting the older woman to look away. Not even half a second away, the blonde girl punch the knee of her ginger friend, causing the two to snicker in laughter, as well as a couple more in the room.

The teacher growled, and once again adjusted her glasses to distract herself.

"Children, we will be having a visitor come in today."

"He might be a little old, but I expect you all to be on your best behaviour." She crossed her arms.

Just then, the students broke into discussions with the person next to them, and the student opposite, speculating on various things.

Just then, the entrance doors opened, and in leaked the brighter outside light against the darker space.

In hobbled a man, walking as if he was an infant once more; little steps ahead the other. In one hand, he carried a cane to allow more stable movement, the other went along with said movement, but carried a certain weight to it. When he approached the elevated platform, the elder man jumped up to it, like he was young once again.

Heads turned, bunny ears, all of it. The students all observed the aged Hunter as he came to stand next to their teacher. A ragged, partly-torn cape swaying from his back beheld generations of experience and battles. Hidden from view was a long, curved blade that rests at his hip, and a tree-branch-like stick under the cape.

Their teacher mumbled a greetings to the visitor, which was returned in kind, before she announced the introduction of the newcomer.

"Students, this is Gehrman. He will be our opponent for today. But remember what I said." Quickly, she glossed over the previous memo.

"Now, which one of you would be willing to participate in a practice match?" Green eyes examined the entire student body within the room, looking specifically for anyone hiding their faces, or a student who's attention was placed elsewhere.

None today.

Instead, a pale hand raised up.

"I'll do it, Miss Goodwitch."

The student who volunteered for the match against the elder was most known for her status as undefeated, only forced into a draw against one other student in Beacon.

Above the two, a mug shot of the student hung in place, above her name. But there was none to be found of the man before her

She produced a red sword and shield, and entered a basic sword-and-shield stance that was the first Pyrrha learned.

In the same moment, Gehrman took the curved blade and smacked it behind his right hip, hearing it clank against an object. Shortly after, the branch-like material from under his cape extended to twice it's old length.

The practice match had begun with her coming to circle around Gehrman, who carried a crude-looking scythe within his two hands, shuffling closer to the younger girl.

Quickly, the scythe was held along his back, the blade outwards. Dashing forwards, the weapon was waved in a circle, and revolved around to do the same action. His opponent momentary withdrew from him.

She was intercepted by a quick step forwards, and the curve of the blade. She quickly dove in for a twirl and a s***h of her sword, and pushed backwards.

Gehrman chased her, holding the hilt from the very end, and strung the blade behind her back. He withdrew the length along with Pyrrha, and winded the scythe through the air, a clean dent in her shielding. She evaded the following blow, and struck the man with her sword, sending him into a recoil, before he sprightly stepped sprung backwards. He returned to a sluggish shamble.

He was loud for a hunter. Gehrman often forced his voice out with each movement of his blade, making them seem like they take that much more effort.

Pyrrha took on the offensive, bolting for the elder man. She raised her shield along the way, but could still see above the rim.

Gehrman carried the length of his scythe along his back once again. He shot forward, sweeping the blade upwards, and pulling it back down towards his side. Pyrrha brushed the first blow aside with her shield, and stepped past the reach of the return strike. With the red and gold blade, she thrust the tip through her senior, and swiped to the side. Twirling around, she slashed his side and transformed her weapon into a firearm.

Shooting the rifle once, she whizzed backwards.

Gehrman turned. His arms pushed his scythe in on itself, turning it into a compacted frame once again. He retrieved the curved blade from the end, from which a bright spark fabricated from the metal chafing against metal.

Holding the freed blade from in his leading hand, Gehrman reached his other hand behind him, and pulled the handle of a firearm from under his torn cape.

the first bbwby entry in this series.

now to reviews:

To the Guest:

what is a great hero skeleton man?