06-15-2015, 01:22 PM
The Victorian fountain that Dougal had found himself standing in front of, its elegant stonework making the water dance in dignified arcs, would never fit in the Yharnam he had come from. The water was still running. It wasn't the site of a burning pyre, nor was it half-smashed by wandering brick trolls. The wide expanse of white that the surrounding cobblestones gave way too was just confirmation of his suspicions. "Of course." Dougal almost jumped at his own voice; it was so rough from lack of use, the sound of it was almost foreign to him. He looked around at the surroundings. Several structures sat in the far distance, surrounding bright lights of some kind. Each one looked different. Some of them had men outside. Some did not. It seemed that Dougal was in the approximate center of all of them.
Before deciding where to go, the Hunter would check the tools of his hunt. His gun and saw spear were there. He had no idea where his other weapons had gotten to; the Blades of Mercy and the Burial Blade. He had no blood vials, but more than enough bullets. He could always make more from his own blood, if needed, but he'd prefer to not do that. Maybe he could use that Omnilium stuff to make more. That orb... it had gone inside him. Just like the Yharnam blood, though possibly on more of a symbolic than physical level. For want of a lantern, Dougal took out the mark of the Hunter and sat down next to the stately fountain, focusing upon the symbol like the flames of a Lantern. Oddly enough, he didn't feel the chill beckoning of the Dream anymore. Only the strange, almost electric prickling of that Omnilium.
"Just think of what you desire most," Omni had said. Well, Gehrman had been even more vague than Omni. He focused on the black horse he'd ridden into Yharnam, what seemed like a year ago, even though it had been far less than that. He'd been coughing and hacking the entire way, hadn't gone above a walk for fear of falling off, but he'd had a horse. He'd found its corpse shortly after awakening on the Hunt. A sphere of rainbow-colored Omnilium flickered into being, slowly stretching and growing. Dougal stared, transfixed, as the summoning continued. That was more color than he'd seen in a month; everything in Yharnam seemed to be black, grey, or bloodstained red. In five minutes time, his black horse, Shade, stood before him, saddled and proud and very much not torn into bloody strips by werewolves.
The Hunter strapped his saw spear to his back and walked over to the horse, patting him on the nose the way he knew Shade liked and talking in a soft, somewhat scratchy voice. "I've missed you, old friend." The horse seemed content to let the petting continue for a moment, and then Dougal walked to check the saddle, which he found was attached perfectly. He hopped nimbly up into the saddle and took the reins, gently nudging Shade forward towards the gate of grey stone and deep green moss. Familiarity had an attraction all its own, and if he was simply in some evolution of the Hunter's Dream, brought about by that chalice, best he figured it out now rather than later.
Before deciding where to go, the Hunter would check the tools of his hunt. His gun and saw spear were there. He had no idea where his other weapons had gotten to; the Blades of Mercy and the Burial Blade. He had no blood vials, but more than enough bullets. He could always make more from his own blood, if needed, but he'd prefer to not do that. Maybe he could use that Omnilium stuff to make more. That orb... it had gone inside him. Just like the Yharnam blood, though possibly on more of a symbolic than physical level. For want of a lantern, Dougal took out the mark of the Hunter and sat down next to the stately fountain, focusing upon the symbol like the flames of a Lantern. Oddly enough, he didn't feel the chill beckoning of the Dream anymore. Only the strange, almost electric prickling of that Omnilium.
"Just think of what you desire most," Omni had said. Well, Gehrman had been even more vague than Omni. He focused on the black horse he'd ridden into Yharnam, what seemed like a year ago, even though it had been far less than that. He'd been coughing and hacking the entire way, hadn't gone above a walk for fear of falling off, but he'd had a horse. He'd found its corpse shortly after awakening on the Hunt. A sphere of rainbow-colored Omnilium flickered into being, slowly stretching and growing. Dougal stared, transfixed, as the summoning continued. That was more color than he'd seen in a month; everything in Yharnam seemed to be black, grey, or bloodstained red. In five minutes time, his black horse, Shade, stood before him, saddled and proud and very much not torn into bloody strips by werewolves.
The Hunter strapped his saw spear to his back and walked over to the horse, patting him on the nose the way he knew Shade liked and talking in a soft, somewhat scratchy voice. "I've missed you, old friend." The horse seemed content to let the petting continue for a moment, and then Dougal walked to check the saddle, which he found was attached perfectly. He hopped nimbly up into the saddle and took the reins, gently nudging Shade forward towards the gate of grey stone and deep green moss. Familiarity had an attraction all its own, and if he was simply in some evolution of the Hunter's Dream, brought about by that chalice, best he figured it out now rather than later.