In the shadows of Yharnam, a city cloaked in shadow and bound by a curse as inescapable as its towering spires, you stand as an outlier, a lone Yharnamite, revolt against the macabre tradition of imbibing the blood of the Great Ones, steering clear of the scourge that plagues your kin.

Desperate to escape the city's cursed grasp, you cross paths with him.

The hunter.

An enigmatic figure, a foreigner arriving on the night of the Hunt; yet he seems so familiar to you somehow. His garb drenched in the lifeblood of your brethren. Beasts or not, they are still your kin, but you can't blame him, no one can.

He stares at you, then he says:

"And you are..?"