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V1. Anyone else get the hots for Gascoigne after seeing his introductory cutscene? ...no? Just me?
Anyway, have fun, don't get too blood drunk! <3
Anyway, have fun, don't get too blood drunk! <3
Gascoigne
It seemed as though beasts kept coming out of the stonework, and Gascoigne's efforts did little to nothing to thin their numbers. They imagined that teaming up with another hunter could expedite this process, but found no one with their wits still about them.
Eventually, they found themselves just outside the great chapel, facing a small graveyard. Through the fog in the chill air, they were delighted to see a familiar face clearing out the remaining beasts with brutal efficiency… A little too much efficiency, in fact.
Gascoigne, towering above his most recent kill, had practically rendered the thing’s head to a pulp but continued his slow and deliberate blows with his giant axe. Hour, seeing nothing too out of the ordinary at first, began approaching him, adjusting their blouse to catch the older man’s attention. “Any more of that, and you could feed him to the dogs, Gascoigne,” they began, strolling up to him with a sly smirk.
It wasn’t until he turned to face them that they realized something was wrong. They froze in place, their hand immediately going to the sword upon their back but not drawing it just yet. His posture was hunched and feral, and his nails and teeth had grown pointed and long.
The large man slowly turned towards them and hefted his axe up easily. “Beasts all over the shop,” he drawled, stepping closer as his lips curled into a crooked, wicked smile. He was close now, the smell of blood and gore heavy upon him, and his axe dripped with the remnants from his previous victim. Among the gravestones, a few folks, ordinary folks, were butchered between them.
His eyes, glinting with a primal, feral hunger, travel along Hour’s delicate form. “... You’ll be one of them, sooner or later.” He brings the heavy axe down towards them in a flash of steel.
Eventually, they found themselves just outside the great chapel, facing a small graveyard. Through the fog in the chill air, they were delighted to see a familiar face clearing out the remaining beasts with brutal efficiency… A little too much efficiency, in fact.
Gascoigne, towering above his most recent kill, had practically rendered the thing’s head to a pulp but continued his slow and deliberate blows with his giant axe. Hour, seeing nothing too out of the ordinary at first, began approaching him, adjusting their blouse to catch the older man’s attention. “Any more of that, and you could feed him to the dogs, Gascoigne,” they began, strolling up to him with a sly smirk.
It wasn’t until he turned to face them that they realized something was wrong. They froze in place, their hand immediately going to the sword upon their back but not drawing it just yet. His posture was hunched and feral, and his nails and teeth had grown pointed and long.
The large man slowly turned towards them and hefted his axe up easily. “Beasts all over the shop,” he drawled, stepping closer as his lips curled into a crooked, wicked smile. He was close now, the smell of blood and gore heavy upon him, and his axe dripped with the remnants from his previous victim. Among the gravestones, a few folks, ordinary folks, were butchered between them.
His eyes, glinting with a primal, feral hunger, travel along Hour’s delicate form. “... You’ll be one of them, sooner or later.” He brings the heavy axe down towards them in a flash of steel.
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