Bloodborne: The Endless Nightmare

You groan in pain.

Your entire body aches and your limbs feel useless and heavy. A deep throb courses through your body, pulsing in time with your heartbeat. Lying upon a cot, you can only stare up at the stained wooden ceiling above you. A lantern hangs from a hook beside the cot, casting a halo of dim light about your body and partially driving away the gloom. The floor vibrates beneath you, and the faint whine of propeller engines can be heard. That is the only indication you have that the airship is still moving, as there aren’t any windows located within the room. No clock either, much to your displeasure.

The room itself is dimly lit, candles dotting the few cluttered tables and shelves present. A second medical cot—empty save for a thin blanket-like cover—rests beside you. Bookshelves line two of the walls, packed full of tomes of different sizes and ages. The third wall has diagrams of pony anatomy, sketches, and medical charts pinned to it. In the corner, if you crane your head around just enough, you can see a small desk and chair. In moving your body though, you incite more discomfort, so, with a groan, you lie your head back down and close your eyes.

As you rest, your mind begins to drift.

This has been your condition for the past three days. For three days you have laid upon this cot, and for three days you could do nothing else but grunt and groan. You aren’t entirely sure what is going on; your memory is hazy and it seems that certain pieces are missing. A few bits manage to make it through the fog however. Afflicted by a unique disease, you are journeying to a distant land in search of a cure. You are unsure if they can help you, but at this point you are willing to put a little faith in the unknown. Anything to get the pain to stop. It’s never been this bad before, but for some reason your condition has worsened as of late to the point where it is restricting your movement and life. Now, with a high fever and barely able to move, you can only wait for something—anything—to happen.

You are forced from your daze when a sudden bout of turbulence causes the airship to shake, and you groan as another throb tears through your body. Okay, anything but that. You want anything but that to happen.

The airship shakes again before seeming to drop a few feet in the air. The action nearly causes you to fall from the cot. You grunt in discomfort, adding a feeling of nausea to your list of complaints. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath to try and calm your stomach. You were never one for flying, and the last thing you want to do right now is throw up. Especially seeing as you could barely turn your head.

The ship shakes for a third time before leveling out. You let out a shaky breath, relief slowly spreading through you. Must have been some serious turbulence. Hopefully you aren’t heading into a storm or anything like that. With no pegasi to contain the weather, massive hurricanes are not unheard of this far out at sea. Actually, now that you think about it, you aren’t sure if you are even over the sea anymore. You have no clue where you are. How much longer do you have to go before you reach your destination? And why has nopony come to see you yet? After three days, you’d think somepony would have popped in to check on you.

Do… do they even know you’re down here?

…

O-of course they do. It was the crew that had wheeled you down here in the first place, right? Something about this being the medical room. It wasn’t like they had decided to quarantine you or anything like that. Your disease wasn’t contagious, just an annoyance. You’re sure somepony will be around shortly to see to you… right?

For several minutes you lie there, staring at the ceiling as your mind races from one possible situation to the next. Fear slowly wells up inside of you as you jump to more and more outlandish conclusions. You have just about convinced yourself that they are going to cut you up and harvest your organs when your ears pick up a faint squeaking noise coming from the other side of the door, which is open a crack. Ears perked, you listen intently as the sound grows steadily louder until whatever it is stops just outside the room. There’s a pause before the door swings open.

Painfully craning your neck about, you watch silently as a wizened pony enters. He’s impossible old, almost to the point of being a mobile corpse. Shrouded in a dark red cloak as old as he is, you can only see his face and hooves. A horn juts forth from his forehead, chipped and cracked with age. Hunched over in a wheelchair, he rolls along by turning the wheels with his magic. A frosted lantern hangs from the back of the chair, casting a dim yellow aura around the stallion.

As he moves through the room towards you, he picks up a clipboard off one of the tables with his magic. Giving it a quick look, he hums softly.

“Oh, yes… Rustmana...” he says as he reads over your medical charts. Which is an impressive feat, seeing as he has a roll of bandages covering his eyes. The old unicorn lets out a weak laugh before continuing. “Well, you’ve come to the right place.” Placing the clipboard back down on a different table this time, he wheels himself over to a small group of cupboards and begins to rummage around.

You don’t know why, but the unicorn is starting to make you feel uneasy.

The sound of clinking glass fills the room as the unicorn begins to pull forth various bottles and containers from the cupboards, placing them upon his covered lap. From your position you cannot get a good look at what he has, but you can hear the faint sound of liquid sloshing about. The cupboards close with a snap, and the sound of squeaking wheels begins again.

You jump slightly when the stallion suddenly appears beside your cot, just barely outside the light of the lantern above you.

“Equestria is the home of arcane ministration,” he says, staring down at you somehow through the bandages. “Cures and fixes for all things magical and occult. All you need to do is unravel its mystery. But,” he clicks his tongue thoughtfully, “where’s an Outsider like yourself to begin?” He pauses, as if expecting you to answer.

You don’t.

You just lie there, confused and in pain.

“Easy,” the stallion continues after a few awkward seconds as if nothing has happened. Leaning forward, his ancient face enters the halo of light cast by the lantern above. His lips pull back in a smile, exposing cracked and yellowing teeth.

“With a bit of arcane blood of your own…” he wheezes before holding up a large bottle in his hoof. Within, a viscous blue-purple liquid swirls about. It glows softly, small pinpoints of light twinkling about like stars in the night sky. Streaks of black waft about like smoke. The substance is unnaturally beautiful… and unnaturally frightening.

Giving the bottle a small shake, the old unicorn lets out another croak of a laugh. “This will fix you up right as rain. You’ll be back on your hooves in no time.”

Your eyes light up and a smile touches your face. Struggling to lift a hoof, you reach for the bottle, only to be denied as the stallion pulls away.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tuts, shaking his head. “Not so fast. Nothing gets you nothing. If you want this—” he waved the bottle about again, causing its contents to swirl about at an increased pace “—then you’re going to have to do something for us.”

Letting your hoof drop to the cot, you groan feebly as pain and weariness flash through you. You are in no condition to stand, let alone do any task that this stallion may require of you. Thoughts of paying him off cross your mind, but unfortunately you have no money. Why can’t he just give you the medicine and be done with it? You thought that healthcare was free in this part of the world.

As if sensing your internal thoughts, the stallion shakes his head. “We would of course cure you before sending you on this errand. Can’t have your condition getting in the way of your job. But we can’t begin administering the… medicine until you’ve agree to help us.”

You nod your head vigorously, eyes never leaving the glowing bottle.

The old stallion clicks his tongue again. “Ah, I’m afraid not. We’re going to need more than just your word on this matter. Don’t assume that we’re blackmailing you, oh no,” he says with a shake of his head. “This is mutually beneficial to all of us. We want to see you get better just as much as you do, friend.” Reaching into his robes, he rummages around for a moment before pulling forth a rolled up scroll. “But first, you’ll need a contract...” Lifting the scroll in his magic, he levitates it in front of your face before unrolling it.

With the light of the lantern shining in your eyes, you have to squint to see the contents of the scroll. Straining your already weak magic, you pick up the ink-covered quill the old stallion offers you and begin to fill out the form. It starts off pretty standard; asking for your name, gender, age, mane colors, coat color, and cutie mark. You fill those out quickly, trying to ignore the drips of ink that fall onto your chest as you write. As you move further down the scroll though, the questions start to get weirder. Origins, voice, skills, pupil sizes, horn length, tattoo/mark/glasses? Why do they need to know this stuff? As your eyes continue to move down the list, your brow begins to furrow in bemusement. Still, you fill out the form truthfully, leaving no question unanswered nor box unfilled.

The minute you finish filling in the last item, the stallion rolls up the scroll with a flourish, ignoring the still drying ink. Tucking the contract back into the folds of his robe, he gives you a lopsided grin. “Good. All signed and sealed. Now, let’s begin the transfusion.” Leaning back in his wheelchair, he turns the glowing bottle upside down before lifting it up and placing it in an IV stand. A clear hose is attached to a small port in the cork of the bottle, and the glowing liquid slowly trickles down the tube towards an IV needle at the other end.

You give the needle an uneasy look. Drinking the liquid you can understand; there are various potions and concoctions from your homeland that have similar appearances. Having that liquid administered directly into your bloodstream however… you aren’t too sure how you feel about that.

Placing a cracked hoof upon your foreleg, the stallion gives you a reassuring pat. “Oh don’t you worry.” Moving faster than you can react too, he presses the needle to your leg and quickly slides it into your vein. There’s a brief second of nothingness, then a soft glow slowly begins to spread out through your veins, originating from the needle.

Almost immediately your vision blurs. The room starts to spin, and you have to lie back in order to stop yourself from throwing up. There’s a rushing in your ears, almost like running water, and the world around you becomes muffled. You try desperately to cling to consciousness, but feel yourself slipping away.

As darkness begins to creep in from the edges of your vision, the old stallion’s face appears above you. The last thing you hear before falling unconscious is the stallion’s wheezing laugh.

“Whatever happens… you may think it all a terrible nightmare…”