((Your head hurts. Your body screams in pain. Every minute since the blood transfusion has been a delirious mess. Visions of the moon, beasts roaming the street, and the enticing call of the old blood have plagued your mind, and there appears to be no release in sight. With no other option in sight, you took up the arms and equipment of a felled hunter. A saw cleaver and pistol now lies in your possession, and the nagging feeling of an unholy pact with a mysterious presence rests in the back of your mind. You’ve been crawling through the streets of Yharnam for the last hour, and there is no end in sight.))

As you creep through the ruins of a destitute cemetery, you come face-to-face with a woman hacking relentlessly at a long-dead corpse. She slowly turns to you, and you see her dressed in the same garments as yourself. She opens her mouth, cold air escaping her mouth, and speaks to you. — You… you aren’t one of them, are you?