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originally posted in:The New Dojo
1/4/2018 3:46:19 PM
35
[b]Dojoville
3:30 PM[/b]
[i]"...It always comes down to the Hunter's Helper to clean up, after these sorts of messes.....
Tonight, Gehrman joins the Hunt........"
In the eternal twilight, the man saw his former mentor rise from his wheelchair, and quickly ready his trick weapon with the grace of a dancer. The scythe's siderite blade gleamed in the white as it reflected the moon and the light of the petals as they danced throughout the air
He heard himself telling Gehrman it was for his own good......that he couldn't bear to leave knowing that he was leaving the old Hunter behind to suffer.....
But they clashed anyway, saw-blade against scythe-blade, Hunter against Hunter......
He remembered mourning over Gehrman as his dream-bound body collapsed to the ground, choking out its last few words...
"The night.....and the Dream....were long...."
And even as Gehrman died, he saw the Dream's creator and owner, the Moon Presence, coalesce in front of him, and embrace him[/i]
The man gasped as he sat up quickly, in the main square of Dojoville's burned out husk. A few battle-weary survivors looked over, but then resumed their activities, desensitized to the random events.
As the Hunter got up, and dusted himself off, he felt....warmth. Sunlight.
He looked up, and paled as he saw the afternoon sun burning down on him.
A quick check served to confirm this. Despite having everything, memories, armor, weapons, even a few blood vials, he had somehow left his Hunter's Dream. His knees went to jelly as he sat down on a nearby bench, trying to make sense of the senseless. Had the Great One decided the Dream need not continue? Or was he daydreaming within the dream?
After a few minutes, he stood up, and sighed. He needed to figure out what was going on
[spoiler]Open[/spoiler]
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"Hello, and who are you?" A lady approached. Despite the cold, she still wore volleyball shorts, a sufer's top, and a grey parka. She wore knee-high snow boots. She had curly dark brown hair and tan skin. She looked like she was a native of Hawaii. With lilac eyes looking to him. She was a bit busty.
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The man eyed the newcomer and sighed "If someone like you is living here, your days are numbered. Just a feeling, lass."
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She shrugged, "It's whatever, I suppose."
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"You heat sick, lad?" Standing a few paces away from the hunter was a man that stood in far contrast to most inhabitants of the Dojo. In lieu of sleek cybernetic limbs was a crutch under his armpit and an exoskeletal leg brace over one of his limbs. A cripple, very uncommon in a place where any body part could be healed or be easily replaced by either magic or far-flung technology. He wore khakis and a casual button-down, looking at the hunter curiously with salt and pepper-coloured hair. "Might be all that black you're wearing. It's a hot sunny afternoon, and you're liable to overheat in that thing." The man smiled wryly. "Unless you have some kind of gadget in there that cools you. Wouldn't be surprised, seems that everyone is prepped for everything around here. Still amazes me."
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"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" Came the reply from the Hunter. If the boy was ex-SAD or whatever the -blam!- you have these days, he would notice the similarities to similar other people within the Dojo. "I Didna do anything, and I don't mean any trouble." His deeply cockney accent and gravely voice placed his age at around maybe early twenties. His face was mostly obscured by his hat and cowl. at his sides was a large saw of sorts, and an old tyme-y blunderbuss
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The man looked older than the cockney, well-aged into his 40s at a guess. But for an aging man, he seemed to be fit enough. Nothing compared to the countless supersoldiers and modern gladiators of the Dojo, but fit for his age at the very least. He held up his free hand to show he meant no harm. "No offence meant by it, lad. But you woke up looking all sick, and I was wondering if it was because of all that black you're wearing." He pointed to the black garb of a Yharnam hunter that the man wore. "Black attracts sunlight. Not a good thing to be wearing on a sunny day like this. Even with that hat and all, you're just heating yourself up more."
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"Better safe than sorry. Hunting is a nasty business, it is." He shrugged "But a good dose of blood usually does away with that ailment." The man then crossed his arms, and cleared his throat "Anyhow, what's yer name?"
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Edited by Chinkronomicon: 1/5/2018 6:10:30 PM"Hunting?" he asked aloud. The man didn't look like a hunter at all. What kind of hunter wore Victorian-era clothes like that? He cleared his inner questions for a moment. "The name's Mason Cartier. I'm new around here, just opened up a cleaning store right down the way. Y'know, since everyone's always killing and fighting each other here. It's amazing how nobody thought of the idea before I did." His eyes drifted cautiously to the hunter's blunderbuss. He didn't even know if the man in black was mentally stable, considering the Dojo's inhabitants.
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"Victor D'Angelo, at yer service." He gave a mock bow. "And Cleaning? I think that's not a bad idea. My waist coat n'all is pretty dirty, but it comes with the job...and its perks." After a split second wondering where the man's gaze was, he laughed "Oh this li'l beaut'? Don't you worry yourself about this, I don't think I'll need it."
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"How very," The first word that came to his mind was primitive. Perhaps it was enchanted, or just looked old in appearance? Or maybe it was exactly that, an oversized blunderbuss. The Dojo had no shortage of oddities that amazed him. "vintage," he settled on, nodding towards his weapon. "Well that's good. I haven't seen too much fighting since my day," he laughed. A half-truth. He could still probably put down anyone if they tried rushing him, thinking the cripple couldn't do anything. "You ought to drop by the place then. Billhook Cleaners, right down the way."
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"I'll keep it in mind." He said, grinning. "Though I'm afraid blood is rather hard to clean. Just be careful, and try not to get it on or in yer body. Enough of it will give ya too much of a taste for it." "Though, now that you're here, could you be a dear, and point me to the nearest inn? Somewhere cheap where I can get food, drink, a bed, and maybe a woman.....if there are any around here." He said, knowing battlefields had precious few beddable women. "Though I doubt it."
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Stroking his chin, he snapped his finger in realization. "I had a customer that said he ran an inn. The Good Knight Inn, I believe, somewhere around here. As for women..." He gave Victor a sideways glance. "You'd be surprised about the diversity of this place. I'm sure there's no shortage of them. After all, this is no ordinary... Dojo." Mason said the last word very strangely, as if unsure if the word even applied to the strange setting they were in. "And no need to worry about the cleaning. My methods are pretty advanced. Cleanest you'll find here in my opinion."
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"For both our sakes, I'd hope so. The Old Blood is nasty stuff." He said with a devilish grin
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[i]The Old Blood?[/i] Mason made note of the strange term, reminding himself to research it later. "I'm pretty new around here. As someone who's a local, how's life in the Dojo? Like how do you deal with the constant fights and all that?"
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Edited by GRUNT OVERLORD: 1/9/2018 10:14:21 PM"mate, I just woke up here. I'm not from here" He said
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He looked surprised. "My pardon then. So is this how folk end up here? Just wake up on a bench in the middle of nowhere?" he mused aloud. "No matter. I don't know how much help I can give you, friend, other than pointing you out to the nearest inn. Like I said, I'm new around here as well."
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"You seem like you could use some help." On the bench sat a small, 5'2" woman, a thin frame covered by a long, white cloak. Her hair was silver and her eyes a deep blue. The voice of her's had a feeling of calmness to it, that made a sense of tranquility fill the air.
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"Aye, that I do." Came a rather gravely voice, with an almost laughably cockney accent
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"Thought so. What's the problem? If you don't mind me asking." She gazed up at him, her face a mixture of mature beauty and young cuteness.
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"First 'a all, I dunnae where I am." He said, looking around and sighing, making sure his cowl and hat sat snugly on his head and face
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"This place is called Dojoville. It's full of criminals, vigilantes, villians, heroes, and everything inbetween."
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"....Just like Good ol' Yharnam." He laughed to himself "Alright, what's ya name?"
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"I just go by the name Silver. I'm thinking of changing it. You are?"
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"Victor D'Angelo, at yer service." He gave a mock bow
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She giggled and shook her head. "Rather unique name for around here. Most people are something rather simple in comparison."
