05-05-2016, 12:25 AM
Dougal was having what most would call a pretty rough day. For him, it was average, but that didn't make it suck any less. He was starting to feel one of the side effects of the blood ministration. Namely, blood withdrawl. He hadn't fought, hadn't killed, in so long, that he was starting to get twitchy. His senses were going wild, picking up the sound of his own heartbeat and the hearts of others in a mismatched cacophony of thumps, and he barely remembered where he was. The bloodlust had become a basic need since he started the Hunt, a requirement to fuel the Dream. The lack of blood echoes was causing the Dream to break down, and since it was held within his mind, it was causing him to break down as well. It wouldn't kill him, probably not anyway, but it was going to be damned painful until it did.
The hard part about today was the Hunter not wanting to hurt civilians, a concern he hadn't had to worry about in Yharnam. Sure, he could've hunted down a stray Koopa or Goron, exsanguinated them, sated his hunger that way, but he wasn't Izzy. He didn't want to be Izzy, no matter how much her Beastblood growled and snarled within him. He wanted to help people. He spotted a scene in the distance; a man looming over a couple children, sword across his shoulders. Unwilling to wait and see, he jumped to the first possible conclusion, that this was a justifiable person to attack, and drew his saw spear from his back, snapping it into the extended position with a loud click as he began approaching with a steady, if strange, gait, moving like the Old Hunters; loose but ready to move at a moment's notice. Izzy had called it The Quickening.
Dougal wasn't in the state of mind to call it anything.
The hard part about today was the Hunter not wanting to hurt civilians, a concern he hadn't had to worry about in Yharnam. Sure, he could've hunted down a stray Koopa or Goron, exsanguinated them, sated his hunger that way, but he wasn't Izzy. He didn't want to be Izzy, no matter how much her Beastblood growled and snarled within him. He wanted to help people. He spotted a scene in the distance; a man looming over a couple children, sword across his shoulders. Unwilling to wait and see, he jumped to the first possible conclusion, that this was a justifiable person to attack, and drew his saw spear from his back, snapping it into the extended position with a loud click as he began approaching with a steady, if strange, gait, moving like the Old Hunters; loose but ready to move at a moment's notice. Izzy had called it The Quickening.
Dougal wasn't in the state of mind to call it anything.