A Hunter visits Equestria

Chapters

Prologue
Chapter 1: What a peculiar place(Revised)
Chapter 2: What hit me?!
Chapter 3: Equestria, eh? 'Tis certainly not Yharnam

Prologue

Author's Note

Alrighty then, guys! Please, please be careful here! This was written at around 1am-4am in the morning, so theirs bound to be many grammatical errors, followed with retarded-ass sentences. Go ahead and point those out to me and I'll fix em, also positive criticism would be appreciated. Hopefully the first chapter isn't too bad. Just felt like pumping it out after I finished. Anyway, enjoy the read.

Mace out! o3o

Prologue

"We are born of the blood, made men by the blood, undone by the blood. Our eyes are yet to open, yet we walk forward, blinded by a semblance of purpose...Fear the old blood."

~Master Willem

Yharnam, a place plagued with the disease of beasts. Where the thought of something monstrous is just another human being. But that's just it, are you the beast, or are they? The thought has permeated the mind of all hunters once or another, for the villagers of Yharnam consider us beasts. A valid theory, yes, but no one is ever truly human. Hunters may just have their inner demons in check, for they are the only ones to destroy the creatures of Yharnam, brandashing their trick weapons and cutting down the tainted blood. All hunters however are not so valiant, so heroic like the majority. They're hunters who seek to hunt one such as them, to consume the echo's of the there soul and ascend to higher power. Roderick was somewhere in between, killing the beasts plaguing the land, yet also cutting down the hunters who saught his life.

A sigh escaped the man's lips, coaxing him into cracking his knuckles warily. Roderick was a rather aged man, although relatively young-looking. He was around his late twenties, perhaps his early thirties, but no one was ever able to tell his true age with just a glance. Gazing upwards, his gleaming hues met the iridescent orb of light in the sky. The moons subtle, yet cold rays donning the field of flowers with an enchanting glow. Lillie's dominated the graveyard of the Hunters Dream; a tall aged oak clung to the sky with it's leafless-branches. Roderick had prepared for what seemed to be his final moments. After slaying the beast, Rom, the vacuous spider, he had returned to the Hunters Dream, only to find the building set aflame! The Plain Doll--a living animate doll to be precise--sat at the foot of the steps, averting her gaze from the hunter; she seemed almost crestfallen at something. When he asked as to what happened, she replied with, "Good hunter, you have come... Dawn will soon break... This night, and this dream, will end. Gehrman awaits you, at the foot of the great tree. Go on, good hunter..."

Now, here he stood; frozen at the entrance of the graveyard, where he felt a great sense of deja-vu. He could have sworn something like this had happened before...yet why was it eluding him so? He shook his head slightly, breathing deep of the inscense inside his mask so as to calm his budding nerves. A hood was draped over his head, leaving nothing by the beak-like mask to protrude from the darkness. Mismatched hues stared from the sunken holes in the crow-shaped mask. One of azure and the other, crimson. He had donned the crowfeather outfit, gifted to him by a helping hunter of the name, Elleen, The crow. This consisted of a plague doctor-like mask, a garb of black leather with black-feathered cape, black trousers and boots. Although Elleen hunted other hunters, she did so only to the vileblooded ones. Having defeated the mysterious hunter who lethally wounded her, he came back only to be berrated. She was joking of course, but he never found himself laughing, for even he could tell she was done for. Those same words echo'd in his mind, "Don't you ever listen to your elders?" She chided with a wheezing laugh, coughing fiercely inside her plague mask, "No matter, you did save my life. I don't seem to be apt for this life anymore... My glory days were long ago now..." She sighed wistfully, looking up at him. Grunting slightly, she struggled to do even the most basic of movements, but succeeded in removing her mask. Pools of the purest blue met his mismatched gaze. A fair-skinned young women sat against the stone rail, short black hair cascaded down her face and small trails of blood quivered from her nostrils, a small line sliding down the corner of her lip, "Let me rest a while... ...I'll be fine, just wait..." She promised, her eyes fluttering now and again in an attempt to stay awake. He remember she died with a smile on her face. She seemed almost jovial near her end, but he just hoped she was in a better place.

Roderick took a step forward, his leather boots clopping against the stoned path. After passing the gate, he found his gaze swimming over the graveyard. Only a few graves actually sat in this enclosed area, and they were marked by large, wooden crosses. At the base of the great tree, sat the first hunter, Gehrman. Aged as he was, that man had helped him numerous times in the hunt, but the twisted feeling in his gut just wouldn't go away. Each step was a battle to him, but in time he stood mere feet from the hunter. The old man sat back in his wheel-chair, graying hair escaping the brim of his beige hat. Green-grey eyes met his, and a small, sad smile graced Gehrman's lips; yet a sense of foreboding clung to Roderick when Gehrman spoke. "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 awake under the morning sun. You will be freed...from this terrible hunter's dream..."

Roderick recoiled a few steps back, looking quite appalled from what the old man was stating. Why had the need arisen to kill him? He thought killing these beasts would help end the plague, yet even after he had vanquished all of them, he was to die?! Roderick's gaze sharpened, had it been any harder a gaze, he'd cut the man with just a stare. Yet, his voice erupted before he had time to think. "No! I refuse to be some sort of sacrificial lamb!"

He hadn't thought such a thing would make Gehrman more despondent, he almost looked disappointed...,"Dear oh dear, what was it? The hunt, the blood, or the horrible dream?" His gaze was longing for an answer, but when none was answered, he exhaled slowly. Lifting his elbows, he slowly pushed himself up from the wheel chair, his face grim with the realization of what was to come. A weapon was strapped to his back, one that even Roderick had not seen before. What appeared to be a folded staff was strapped to his back, while a thick, curved blade hung on his hip. Gehrman slowly pulled the blade from it's sheath, then with a quick motion, he slammed it behind his back. The trick weapons mechanic's shifted nosily, and as it extended, he knew he would meet his end here.

Gehrman now held a lengthy scythe, eldritch symbols edged into the face of the curved blade. Beneath Gehrmans hat sat hard, cold eyes. He spoke, loud enough for Roderick to hear, but more so to himself than anyone, "Tonight, Gehrman joins the hunt." The old man began stepping towards him. Threatened as Roderick was, he back stepped a few times, drawing the Chikage katana he had received for besting a Chalice Dungeon. In his free hand sat Ludwig's holy rifle, an elongated blunderbuss. Roderick seemed torn; he wanted to defend himself, yet he did not wish to possibly kill his one and only mentor. He would have never gotten the moment, for a flash caught his eye, and the blade descended upon him. Had he not the reflexes, he would have been done in then and there. But due to his being a hunter, he dashed backwards, leaving the first hunter to grumble under his breath. He would have to act now, lest he perish here. He darted forwards, swinging his blade in a downward arc, yet Gehrman side-stepped, slamming the butt of the pole into his gut with substantial speed and force. His eyes bulged as the breath was forced from his lungs. Stumbling backwards as he tried to gain his breath, Gehrman swung horizontally. Roderick would not be able to leave such an encounter unscathed, such as the origin of the deep gash in his side. He screamed out in pain, restraining himself from clutching the wound, lest he drop his weapons. He could feel his blood flow freely down his leather garb.

Gehrman continued to stroll towards him at a slow pace, the same grim expression plastered on the old mans visage. As he prepared to end Roderick's suffering, he rose the blade up high, but that would be the mans downfall. Roderick's blunderbuss roared in defiance, coating the hunter's chest in a spread of quicksilver pellets. Blood erupted from the multiple entries, and the old man moaned in pain. Having dropped to one knee, he wheezed from the damage sustained. Roderick took his chance, sprinting forward, he stabbed the tip of his blade in the dirt. Coiling his arm back, he shot it forth, stabbing his digits into the mans torso and gouging out a chunk of flesh. Such force threw Gehrman a few feet away, and as the trail of blood followed, he dropped the fleshy chunk. His crimson-soaked hand gripped the handle of his blade once more, and he pulled it from it's resting place. As the old man struggled to get up, Roderick tried his best to grasp the last bits of air he could. He inhaled deeply, trembling slightly with the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Gehrman was on his feet again, a pained look coming from his eyes. Perhaps from the wound, or at the resilience of Roderick? He could tell, only staring as the man raised the scythe. The entire weapon disappeared behind his back, his right hand gripping the end of the poll, and the other gripping it near the blade. Realization hit him too late, for the blade erupted from over Gehrman's shoulder, he barely missed as the blade cut into his leather garb. Yet, another came that he didn't see. The old man was fast for his age, for another horizontal swing came at blinding speed, cutting deep into his torso and throwing him off his feet. Roderick saw white for a moment before everything came into perspective, he had been injured badly, he could feel the cool wind stinging at the gash. It had been cut down to the bone and even then, the blade had bit into his sternum and a few of his ribs. He could feel his heart thumping hard, or perhaps he was hearing it, but he couldn't give up. He stumbled to his feet once more, his face looking a little pale...

Roderick and Gehrman fought for what seemed like eternity. Sure, Roderick had injured Gehrman substantially, but he was in far worse conditions. He was wheezing in any breath he could take. His plague mask had been broken, leaving his left eye and part of his face bare to the air. Multiple cuts and gashes donned his form. His garb had been utterly destroyed by the old man. He had trouble just breathing, so how was he going to win this? Gehrman was breathing heavily where he stood, the scarf once wrapped around his neck had been ripped in multiple places; a few cuts and one heavy gash adorned the old mans torso. He furrowed his brow, and Roderick had to blink to truly see what the man was doing. Some force had begun to converge around the man, some arcane presence that clutched to the old man, strengthening his body with the will of the heavens. Roderick was shocked utterly as he stared at the closing wounds of the man. Gehrman extended his arms and threw his head back, letting out a bestial roar that shook the very foundations of the Hunter's Dream. Roderick stumbled as the arcane force erupted all around, disintegrating the flowers around him and even shattering a cross that was unfortunate enough to be in its wake.

Roderick didn't even have time to blink before Gehrman had closed the gap. His breath hitched in his throat; his eyes widening in shock, then pain. He tried to speak, but all that came out was nothing but air. Blood dribbled out of his nostrils, and finally it hit him. He had been impaled. Gehrman stood before him, his blade upturn with the blade sticking firmly into Roderick's gut. Protruding from the other side was the very same blade, drooling his own life essence. Roderick sputtered out a glob of blood into his mask, his eyes tearing up as his final moments were approaching. He had so much to do, he hadn't wanted to die yet. He had met so many allies, perhaps even considering one a friend...He wanted to cry, he wanted to scream, shout and throw a tantrum! Yet, the chill of death began creeping up his limbs. He weakly struggled, gripping the pole of the old man's weapon and trying to force it from his flesh. He was halted however by Gehrmans sorrow-filled voice, "Farewell, good hunter. May you find your worth in the waking world." Gehrman's Grey-green eyes stared into his own, and they showed traces of regret, sorrow, pain...He could tell Gehrman didn't want to do it, yet why did he in the first place? As he felt his body drop to his knees he prayed to what ever god sat in the stars to grant him a second chance, anything to rid himself the hollowness that was death. As his sight began to fade, he saw a lavender light emanate from his form; then he remembered nothing.

Chapter 1: What a peculiar place(Revised)

Roderick groaned loudly as he found himself awoken by a bright light. This was odd, and rather uncommon since Yharnam was always cloaked in a veil of darkness. Night was the only thing they received, so what was this? The lids covering his eyes slowly parted to reveal!...The sun. He instantly averted his gaze; hissing in pain at the sting the light caused his eyes. He shook his head a bit, but the damage was already done. Each time he closed his eyes, he'd catch sight of some specks flashing just out of his vision. He cursed under his breath, "Son of a bitch..." Muttering obscenities, he went to pinch the bridge of his nose, but met the mask instead. Groaning, he lifted it upwards, letting it perch upon his head. Hints of dirty-blonde hair stood out from under the mask. Roderick sighed, massaging one of his temples in thought. Although, this ended with his hand traveling down to his Goatee, stroking the plethora of blond hairs sticking out from his chin. He did appear quite young, perhaps looking well into his early twenties. What was he using to keep his skin so healthy?! The world may never know!...

Jokes aside, Roderick chuckled slightly at the thought; one so alien that he found could be in some sort of advertisement. He winced immediately after, a large headache thumping at the confinements of his skull. Trying to get his thoughts off the steadily growing migraine, he look around and finally noticed he had been in the clearing of a strange forest. No, this certainly couldn't be the Forbidden Forest. It was a lot darker, in light and color. This just seems like some child painted the trees with the brightest colors they could find. Honestly, it was true. The trees were the right color, but all in all, they were a shade to light for his tastes. Looking down, he caught sight of the multiple lacerations in his outfit, Elleen would have been so mad at him... The thought actually made him laugh out loud; what would she have done to him? Scold him like a mother? No, she'd probably do something far worse. Slowly sliding the mask back on, he continued to laugh.

His hearty laughter wasn't without repercussions, since it sent him into a coughing fit. Another look gave him insight on his wounds, which, for some reason had turned into scars... This wasn't right. He was perplexed as anyone would have been, he had just fought Gehrman in what seemed like moments ago, and died to Gehrman! So wh- Wait! He died! Why was he alive and why here?! He didn't sit long on those thoughts, though. He was energized now, using his strength to hop up onto his feet and look around. He patted his body down rapidly, searching himself for anything that would give him an answer. Nothing out of the ordinary, of course, but it was perplexing nonetheless. "This is confusing..." Grumbling, Roderick went to pick up his weapon. Shifting his gaze towards the forest floor, he found instead two. His 'Chikage' as the vileblood queen had called it, and the weapon he was killed with; the Burial Blade. The curved sword sat neatly next to the folded up pole. His brows furrowed in confusion. The Japanese-styled blade he once owned laid just inches away from the odd place, it's golden scabbard gleaming gently from the morning sun. The dark-red leather wrapped around the handle called to him.

Walking slowly towards his blade, he picked the lengthy weapon with his left hand. Securely attaching the katana to the left side of his hip. Looking down at the other blade, one old man came to his mind. There was fond memories of the man. Although Gehrman was odd, he wasn't all that bad. Perhaps...perhaps he should have listened to the man, before he truly tried to avoid the inevitable. Sighing gently, he bent over, gripping the handle of the closed pole, and then the scimitar-like blade next to it. He hung the folded staff on his back, attaching the other blade onto the right side of his hip. Catching himself, he almost forgot the blunderbuss on the ground, which he quickly snatched up; sliding it into the holster hanging limply from his left thigh. Looking around the clearing, he rose his gaze to the sun. He would agree that even he was lost in such a dense foliage, and his objective would be to find a way out.

"What is this place?" He thought aloud, furrowing his brow in thought. This place seemed, what was the word? Mystical? It seemed...unreal to him in a way, but then again he was always fighting mangled beasts. What was any different from a dark, gothic setting, than one of pastel colors? If anything, this world was much more forgiving, or so he thought. Roderick in question began exploring the natural paths of the forest. Each step he took was silent, the occasional 'chirps' and other noises being the only thing to pierce the veil of silence. He had been so enthralled in his own mind, that he jumped upon hearing a loud rumble. Quickly scouring the area in a panic, he found the sound to have emanated from his stomach. That of which was shown to him, when he heard it yet again, followed by the slight hunger-pangs biting into the lining of his stomach.

He blinked slowly, his expression falling to one of indifference at the feeling. He had gone a few days with little food, something like this probably wouldn't stop him from continuing in his exploration. Then again, it was better to get his bearings, rather than being completely ignorant. He continued, step after steps towards the heart of the Everfree. With the terrain changing, he had to be careful. The flat land slowly went downhill. Grumbling to himself, he slowly traversed downward, the density of the trees and bushes thinning as he progressed. Within a few seconds, his eyes met the beautiful sight of a running stream. He stopped abruptly, though, when he saw something. Just feet from him, drinking from the stream was something he had only ever heard of in myth. A manticore.

The towering beast was like some god mashed a plethora of beasts together, to get this type of aberration! Two bat-like wings were closed behind it's broad back, and a large, black scorpion tail sat curled up behind it. It was huge! It would probably be about his height, and he was well over six feet in height. Knowing just how dangerous it could be, he simply watched. The creature in turn stopped drinking, it's feline-like ears twitching and swiveling, trying to catch the faintest sound of anything near it. When the beasts caution was dimmed substantially do to nothing making a hint of noise, it resumed it's drinking. Roderick's breath was held, and with hunger and thirst eating away at his body, he knew what he'd have to do.

The thundering footsteps could be heard within an instant, and just as he neared the manticore, did it turn around. The hunched over beast staring at him with slitted pupils. The beasts eyes widened in surprise first, but quickly narrowed as it's lips peeled back in a snarl. Roderick had already placed his hand on the hilt of his katana, the handle pulsing an ominous red as he felt a few pricks in his palm. The manticore quickly threw it's paw out, claws erect in clear intent to kill Roderick. Ducking under such an attack at the last minute, he receive a shallow gash upon the side of his head, but he yelled at the thing in challenge. His blade was drawn swiftly, the silver blade erupting from it's sheath, however, the last few inches of the blade appeared to have what seemed like crystallized blood plastered on it's length. The sharp, serrated edge near the end bit into the beasts thick hide, but it sunk deep into the creatures flesh. When he quickly back-stepped, what was left behind on the Manticore was a deep gash in it's chest.

The manticore in turn roared in pain, it's slitted pupils burning with rage. Roderick quickly swung his blade to his side, the crystallized blood liquefying in an instant and splattering against the ground, leaving a clean silver blade in it's wake. He removed his left hand from his scabbard, gripping the lower portion of his katana. The Manticore charged him instantly, and he prepared himself slowly, raising his blade slowly. A split second passed; they clashed.

Roderick breathed heavily as he pressed himself against a large boulder near the river. The manticore had put up one hell of a fight, it's bloodied corpse laying limp near the river, where it's blood seeped into the clear water. He winced as he moved, feeling a jolt of pain in his torso, where the beast had got him. Three deep gashes bleed from his chest, and reminding himself of something that could help, he fumbled with a hand into his pocket, pulling out a vial that held a red substance inside. Flicking the cork off with his thumb, he tilted it back, pouring the sanguine liquid on his wounds and grunting in pain. It did it's job, however, since the wounds themselves began to slowly mend themselves. Gritting his teeth through the painful ordeal, he sat back and simply rested; he deserved it.

Well, thankfully Roderick wasn't heavily injured, or else he would have much, much more trouble hauling the manticore through the forest. Having sated his thirst on the way, he filled up a canteen he had strapped to his waist, above his backside. Grunting heavily, he stumbled forward, "Fucking manticore! Why're you so heavy?!" He exclaimed, glaring at the corpse as he walked, eventually reaching a point in which he would set the thing down. It had been around midday by now, and the sun was quickly setting. Perhaps setting up camp was the good idea. With that in mind, he began getting to just that.

By now, the various noises of the Everfree permeated the dark forest. With a shelter set up next to one of the thick trunks, Roderick had been set inside. A large campfire crackling brightly just feet way. A few sticks were stuck in the ground facing the fire, chunks of meat hanging from them. Yawning lightly, he ripped one from the ground, the once pink meat having taken on a brown pigment. Sniffing it experimentally, he bit into it, ripping away the surprisingly tender flesh and swallowing the juicy steak with relish. He hummed in delight at it's taste. With the fire crackling, he found himself relaxing much more than even he thought he could in such a place. After finishing his dinner, he had passed out under the leaf-and-stick tent he had made. A plethora of green, flaming hues stared at the strange being from beyond the light. They stared curiously at the thing, before slowly slinking back into the darkness...

Chapter 2: What hit me?!

"Mistakes are always forgivable, if one has the courage to admit them."

~Bruce Lee

It had certainly been a rather enthralling morning for the Apples. Applejack sat at the kitchen table. Granny Smith sat across from the orange mare, her brown eyes boring into the jade ones just a few feet away. Applejack was feeling mighty sorry for her actions, but Granny Smith was still a little peeved at her actions the hour prior. There guest as they would put it was currently recovering in the guest room upstairs. "Now Granny," Applejack began, "I know you're mighty disappointed with me, but I thought that thing was goin' to hurt you!" Granny pursed her lips a bit, holding her angry facade a few more moments before exhaling in a sigh, "Ah' know, Applejack. Just in the future try to talk before you start throwin' hooves." Applejack cringed. Yep, she deserved that.

The stairs squeezed under the weight of another, and as the two mares turned their heads, they saw Big Mac. The large, red stallion slowly trotted into the room, walking over to the kitchen and had begun cooking breakfast for the few occupants in the home. "Good mornin', Big Mac. You sleep okay?" Applejack asked quickly, trying to change the subject that she unavoidably started. Big mac had already gotten a pan on the stove when he heard this, his red muzzle turning. By now, his green gaze met hers and he replied, "Eyup." Though, by then the conversation died with the singe phrase. The only noise being the sizzling of the pancakes that were being fed into the pan. Then it hit her, Applejack's eyes widened as she asked the question that worried them a little, "Where's Apple Bloom?"

"I'm tellin' you, it's in here!" Whispered an excited Apple Bloom. The two fillies following behind her down the hall looked a little unsure. One, an orange Pegasus was looking to the white unicorn next to her with an expression that screamed, 'is she serious?' Her lavender gaze searched inquisitively to her friend, Sweetie Belle. Sweetie Belle was just as confused, if not curious at what Apple Bloom wanted them to see. She said they find some sort of alien. But aliens couldn't possibly be real. "Are you sure? You look a little tired, maybe it's the sleep talkin'?" Asked the orange filly, Scootaloo. Apple Bloom swiveled on her hooves, turning to her friend as she raised an eyebrow, "You don't believe me?" Asked Apple Bloom, looking just a tinge offended. By now, they were all positioned by the door to the room Roderick was in. The door was cracked open just a bit, letting the fillies look into the dimly lit room.

As Apple Bloom and Scootaloo argued, Sweetie Belle slowly trotted over to the door. Her green hues stared into the room from the crack, but without a proper look, she was just able to stare at a portion of the bed. Her eyes however did find something odd, which consisted of the white object protruding from the bed. Furrowing her brow, she slowly pushed the door open. Creeeeak! The arguing ceased instantly at this. Apple Bloom and Scootaloo tore themselves from each others muzzle, their once angered eyes looking curiously at the door Sweetie had opened. However, Sweetie flinched at the noise the door made, slowly looking over her shoulder with a nervous smile. She blinked though, hearing something rustle from the bed. This sparked something in them, since they all re-focused on the room ahead. It was actually quite dark in there and the curtains were closed. The sun however pushed some light into the room, however small it was.

The three carefully walked forward, their eyes searching the room for the supposed creature. However, the trio found the hunters weapons against the wall. The curved blade was resting against the wall, along with the folded up pole beside of it. Their eyes lit up with this and they scuttled as quietly towards it as they could, "Whoa! This is so cool!" Scootaloo exclaimed quietly, pressing her hoof to the cold blade. She ran her hoof along the symbols in the blade a few times and Apple Bloom joined. She found interest in the bandage-wrapped pole in front of her though. While the two were engrossed in the two contraptions before them, Sweetie had found hers traveling somewhere else. Sitting on the nightstand sat some weird object. It had a wooden hand, that extended into some sort of metal contraption. Near the end of it, however, the metal tube spread out wide. A small hook-like piece sat near the base of the metal tube. What could that be? She thought, walking over and hoisting herself up onto her hind hooves. Her front gently clopped onto the side of the stand, and she looked down at it.

The white unicorn fiddled with the thing a bit, a smile forming on her face at the strange thing. By now, she had pulled the hook piece back, causing it to click nosily; breaking Apple Bloom and Scootaloo out of their enthralled stupor. Now driven to something else, they quickly trotted over to Sweetie, standing up just as she did to look at the contraption. "What's that?" Asked Scootaloo, poking the object with her hoof. Her lavender brow rose in confusion. By now, they had completely forgotten they needed to be quiet. Their crusade was cut short by a deep groan just left of them. They tensed slowly, turning their cute little heads towards the source of the sound, only to be met face-to-face with a crow-like visage. They screamed.

Roderick groaned, something around him was constantly making noise and he could have swore someone was whispering. As the noise steadily rose in volume, he couldn't take it. He grunted in aggravation, turning on his side. As he slowly opened his eyes however, he was staring face-to-face with three fillies. One of them he knew quite well from the forest, but the other two were foreign. He raised an eyebrow under the mask, but they just looked at him for a moment. They screamed loud. His ears erupted with the sound, and he did the same, "Gah! What the hell!" he exclaimed, scuttling backwards and inevitably falling off the bed. He hit the floor, which shook most of the furniture in the room. The three fillies booked it towards the door, but his fall caused the cracked door to close with a slam. They were trapped with him.

The hunter was dazed for a moment, groaning in mild pain. He slowly hoisted himself up by his elbows, his legs seemed to end near the beds frame, the rest hidden under. He pressed his back against the wall and cradled his head soothingly. "Fuck, that hurt!" He hissed, threading his fingers under the mask and pulling it off of his head. His short, dirty-blonde hair shifted from the confinements before they were freed. His pale-faced visage twisted in pain. The crow mask was clattered to the floor beside of him, his hands working on more important things. As his digits rummaged through his hair, they ran over the growing bump. Just the slightest touched caused him to cringe, "Ow!" Well, at least he wasn't bleeding.

By now, the three fillies desperately trying to open the door had ceased their actions, looking puzzled at the creatures actions. It sounded hurt, but the beaked face showed no reaction to it. Then the face came off. Oh...It was a mask the entire time. the three thought consecutively. As they saw the creatures face, he looked quite a bit in pain. Instantly, the three's ears splayed back in guilt. They had just woken the thing of it's sleep, and what a wake up call it was. They slowly approached the thing, their tails clinging between their legs. As Roderick focused on his head, he barely registered the faint touch on his thigh. He opened his mismatched eyes, gazing over to the Yellow coated filly. The pink bow in her hair catching his eye for a split second, "We're really sorry for wakin' you." Said the first. The white coated filly came next, "Yes, we apologize. That was very rude of us." Then, the orange coated one, "What they said!" Just the way she beamed after saying that sentence sent Roderick into a fit of laughter. The other two sounded genuinely sorry, but Scootaloo just sounded excited.

Unconventionally, the noise caused a stir from below.

After the words had left Applejack's mouth, she knew something fishy was going on. Her green eyes narrowed slightly, but Granny just gave her a perplexing stare. Big Mac halted his cooking at the moment, looking just a tad worried as well. Knowing Apple Bloom, she was bound to go see that strange thing. "Should we go up the-" A loud crash from above caused the three to jump in surprise. Applejack stared at the two with wide, panicked eyes. Struggling to get out of her chair, she scrambled quickly up the stairs. Her ill thoughts were shattered when she approached the door near the end of the hall. Her equine ears perked up at the sound, three little fillies were giggling away. She looked puzzled for a moment, but ultimately she opened the door.

There, against the wall sat Roderick,--s Granny said was his name--the fillies were sitting in his lap and chatting it up profusely. Now that she had a good look at it, it was much more friendly looking. Her gaze traveled to the bed, where the crow-like mask was sitting. I guess it really isn't some kind-of monster... Stuck in her thoughts, she forgot she was just staring at them. By now, Roderick and the Cutie Mark Crusaders were just staring at her, "Uh...Sis'?" Apple Bloom asked, waving one of her yellow hooves in the air trying to catch her attention. The orange mare just stared at Roderick for the most part, looking a little surprised. Roderick, however was just minding his own business. He was scratching Scootaloo behind the ear; the filly in question had a look of pure bliss on her face, pushing her head into the males palm.

"Uh...breakfast...downstairs..." She muttered absentmindedly. Scootaloo pulled herself from Roderick's ministrations and perked up at the word 'breakfast.' Less than a second later, she scuttled out of his lap and ran to the door. Not wanting to be left out, Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle trotted after her; disappearing behind the frame and down the stairs. As Roderick watched them leave, he chuckled. Slowly, he hauled himself onto his feet. Completely dwarfing Applejack in height. The male dusted off his trousers, heading towards the door.

"You coming?" He asked politely, poking her in the nose. A mischievous grin grew on his lips at the way she went cross-eyed. Snorting and shaking her head, she glared up at him. Roderick in turn just found it adorable. He turned before she could catch his eye and followed him as he entered the hall. The door frame was quite small, so he had to duck in order to get through it. By the time they made it downstairs, they were met with five set of eyes staring at them. The three fillies of course were munching down on what seemed like pancakes and hash brows. Granny was eating soup, and Big mac had a heavy helping of what he was probably going to have. Pancakes!

Granny Smith looked a little surprised, since she called Roderick across the room, "Roderick! I didn't know that's what ya' looked like! Finally stopped wearing the mask, huh? Well, sure are a handsome stallion!" She praised, grinning almost ear to ear. Roderick was just smiling warmly in return. It appears Granny is much more fascinating than I last thought. Seems I found a new partner to converse with. he mused silently, grinning just a tad. As he made his way to the table, he noticed the chairs were just a tad small for him, so shifting his gaze around the kitchen, he caught a midly-sized stool. After replacing the two, he sat down on the stool, looking down at the table and it's vast quantity of goods.

"Wait, he's a stallion?" Applejack asked from the left of him. Granny looked a little confused at that, and Big Mac just had a knowing look. His jade eyes help some understanding to that question. Roderick was a little curious as to how Granny knew this, but perhaps they had some type of creature here that resembled humans? That could help him understand the situation.

"Well of course he is! Can't you tell?" As if by that single question, everyone in the house should have known. Applejack was just completely lost now, looking like she didn't understand the language they were talking. After a moment of pondering, she gave up. A heavy sigh emanated from her muzzle, and as she acquiesced, she began eating. Roderick on the other hand picked up a plate from the stack and placed it in front of him. With fork in hand, he began picking things out to eat. He had left the hash brows because they were made from hay. Knowing hay was not consumable, he stuck with pancakes.

Silence reigned over the table. By then, the three fillies had already left the house on what they called 'crusading for cutie marks.' Now, Roderick hadn't the slightest clue was a cutie mark was, and upon asking, Applejack looked baffled, "What're mean you don't know what a cutie mark is?" Granny just a rose a brow, and Big Mac continued eating; but the way both of his eyes looked up from the plate now and again showed his curiosity on the subject.

"Just as I've said: I don't know what a cutie mark is," Replied Roderick, his brows furrowed in confusion, "Should I?" He honestly wished to know, since most of his time would be spent in this world and if he was to learn it's customs; he'd need to know what these 'cutie marks' were. Gazing at the three, he searched there faces for an answer.

Applejack was the first to respond, as expected, "A ponies cutie mark defines their special talent! As a colt or filly, most ponies try to find their cutie marks so they know what they'll excel in as an adult!" She exclaimed with enthusiasm. Roderick drinked in this information, thinking about it for a moment before realization donned on him.

"So, you mean to say. Those symbols on your backside determines what you'll be good at in life?" He asked, gesturing towards Applejack's flank with his hand. He pointed at the individual apples that seemed tattoo'd into her flesh. Judging from her cutie mark, she appears to have some experience with...apples? Not surprising, since all I saw was just one large apple orchard. "I guess I should have made the connection then. Most of your names seem to come from some type of apple. It was only a matter of time before I figured out you all have talents in apples." He concluded simply.

The apple family just nodded sagely. With that, they continued to eat; conversing on the various types of cutie marks and even how to generally obtain one. However when asked if he had one, he shook his head, "We do not have them where I come from." He stated, running a hand through his thick, golden locks. By now that sent alarms off in the various heads of the ponies in front of him. Questions brewed in their minds and it was Big Mac who actually spoke this time. Applejack was just as surprised as he, considering he hadn't heard him speak once. His barotone voice was quite soothing.

"Where do ya' come from, if you don't mind me askin'." Inquired Big Mac. Everyone seemed to quiet down after he spoke; their shocked expressions dying as they shifted their gazes towards him. Put on the spot, Roderick sighed, rubbing his forehead a tad before placing his fork down on the plate. Big Mac noticed it may have been a sore topic and opened his mouth to stop him, but Roderick rose a hand to silence him. He looked at them with his mismatched hues, blinking a few times before he began.

"I'm from Yharnam. I doubt you've heard of it here, considering It may have been on my own planet." He stated, Applejack looked puzzled at this, but he continued, "I say my planet, because I highly doubt this is the same one. On my planet, we did not have ponies as brightly colored as you." He pointed at Applejack, Big Mac, and Granny Smith. "Plus, it is not so peaceful in Yharnam. I don't dislike the calmness of this place, but when you've grown used to the fighting and the lose; it drives you. We were hunters, fighting to drive the beast plague from our home and awake from that accursed nightmare." He went silent after that, looking despondent. Applejack and the others were kind enough not to pry, but even then something had sparked interest Applejack. Didn't they have an organization like that here? She remembered Twi telling her about it one time...she'd have to ask her again.

As breakfast ended, Roderick went to help clean up the dishes, but Big Mac had already started. Asked if he could help, Big Mac turned him away with a shake of his muzzle, saying: "He had it". Not one to intrude on someone willing to work, he turned around, only to be met with the same orange mare as before. "Now, Roderick, I need you to come with me. It'll help work your legs, and I want you to meet someone. She might be able to help you get home!" Applejack exclaimed excitedly. As she headed to the door, Roderick stopped her, pointed upstairs where his belongings were. She insisted he didn't need them, but he went to get them anyway. An unprepared hunter was a dead hunter.

They were already on the dirt path to ponyville by the time the sun chose to shine fully on the land. Even with the sun out, it was a little cold. Roderick clutched the feather cape close to his body for warmth. Each step seemed to rouse the blunderbuss from his belt. Honestly, he had forgotten he even had the gun, only noticing that it had been on the nightstand. Surprisingly, it was loaded. That was odd, since he never left the hammer cocked back unless he was in combat. Someone must have fiddled with it; thank god it didn't go off. The folded pole of his weapon was deposited on his back, the curved blade attached to his left hip.

They walked in silence for the most part, just enjoying each others company. Not much was to be said, since most of their conversing had been done at breakfast. Applejack did notice that Roderick was taking this better than someone should have. Perhaps he was just open minded, or this just didn't surprise him after everything he had seen. The crow mask was hanging from his belt, leaving his friendly visage bare for all to see. Meanwhile, Roderick was stroking his goatee in thought. A moderate sized bruise was prominent on his cheek, though. Applejack followed her mind to the morning prior and how it happened. Her ears folded back in guilt, and as they continued to walk, she spoke up, "I'm sorry."

Roderick stumbled a little upon hearing her say this. It was mostly abrupt, and what exactly was she sorry for? Oh! Was she sorry about hitting him? Really? Just over that? He'd had taken worse as a hunter; sure he'd be unprepared for it, but it didn't really hurt him all that much. Knocking out, sure, but eh. Before she could even follow up, he chuckled, "Don't worry about it, Applejack." He replied, smirking down at her. The orange mare in turn was baffled. She hit him! How could he just shrug something like that off?! The way he was smiling down at her however made her sigh. She turned her head away from him, hints of a red adoring her cheeks. Roderick wasn't ignorant, he was able to see it even from there. He laughed a little, and in return was hit in the shin.

When they came into sight of Ponyville, Roderick was eerily reminded of home. Where he thought this would be a village, it was a bustling town with Victorian-styled homes. The bricked buildings and stone walkways made him halt in his steps. He just stood there and took it all in. He could see the various lamps perched near the side walks and such, even ponies being pulled in carriages. For ponies, they seemed to be rather advanced in technology. Surprising enough, they may have rivaled humans, since their buildings resembled these. As they strolled down one of the cobble-stoned sidewalks, he found he was the talk of the town already. The majority of the ponies were staring at him, some whispering among themselves.

He ignored most of the ponies and found his gaze traveling among the many signs of the shops around. While in his excited stupor, he barely registered the flash of light down one of the alleys they passed. He could have sworn he saw someone. Wanting to go back and check, the thought was removed from his brain, since his main source of attention was on a large tree that sprouted out in the center of the town. It wasn't just a tree, since it held various windows and a door. It was a home? That seemed...unorthodox. Applejack was already at the door by the time he was broken from his thoughts, jogging to catch up with her, he stood beside her, "Now, Roderick don't freak out if Twi tries to pick you up or something. She's a smart pony, but she tends to forget ponies have their personal space. If she gets a little out of hand, just poke her or somethin'," She concluded.

As the door parted, Roderick was met face-to-face with some green and purple lizard. The little thing seemed excited at first, getting an eyeful of Applejack, but when he saw Roderick, he completely froze. Applejack was concerned for the little guy, even prodding his scaly stomach a moment for confirmation, "Uh...Spi-" and then the little lizard screamed out: "MONSTER!" and ran back inside, slamming the door in his wake. Roderick sighed and Applejack groaned. Oh, today was going to be a long, long day.

Chapter 3: Equestria, eh? 'Tis certainly not Yharnam

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.