-Omen : Irdele-
Even with that shining beam towards Lillian, ______ felt a scorching concern foreboding over the melancholic steeple. The man glanced back to the arms acquired and scooped the Sabbath and revolver up with a simple swoop of his arm. The blade still required a sheathe, so he picked it up with his other free hand. Keeping the sharp tool close to the ground, ______ trudged over to the worn regalia the man donated. Of course, the whole display of things to pad the people with looked a tad ridiculous...
"... then again, I already had a couple of these strange garments on when I arose from my slumber... I'm not completely positive that I had some of these on originally, but then again I do have amnesia... I can't even revel in even being aware of my own identity... now that I think about it, that ivory woman Maria said something to me as I passed in... what was it again?" Distracted by his thoughts, ______fumbled through the clothes, finding a few items to be unfitting due to the sheer magnitude of how minuscule or gargantuan they were. Furrowing his brows, ______ glared with daggers in his eyes, as if these inanimate pieces of clothing somehow wronged him.
"... I look like an ill omen? What does she mean by that?" ______ grumbled to himself as he donned dual sabatons and poleyns on his being, struggling to properly equip both pieces of footwear. He could of completed the set, but the other parts were just awkward or assumed missing by him. Befuddled by the myriads of minor inconveniences, ______ became slightly vexed at this all; even the tale woven by the black widow seemed to leave the perplexed man annoyed the more he dragged on his thoughts.
Regarding his equipment, as soon as ______ finished donning what little plate he had began to check for any bullets loaded in the arms. Of course, the gun was fairly benign for now, lacking any sort of compact sphere in the barrel. It was also duly noted he would require a holster for such a dangerous tool and possibly a bag for the rust-stained book. While relieved that there was nothing within the confines, he set his sights on the pile of clothing before tearing through it once more, finding a worn, musty satchel that looked as if it might fall apart like a shambling building, and a holster a size a little too big for the pistol.
Equipping the two items, ______ shoved his gun into the leather pouch and his bloody book into the tattered bag in one fell swoop. Eventually came the task of retrieving musket balls for the lonely pistol... which lead him to going back to the weapons pile.
"Seriously, what I'm doing is rather moronic; I could of snatched some bullets, go over to the pile, grabbed the bag, and finish this simplistic chore of dressing up for hunting beasts of whimsy and dreary fantasies... On second thought, what I'm doing is slightly delaying the inevitable, so it's ok to an extent I guess..."______ wasn't too eager to battle the nightmares that lay waste to the realm around, but eventually he would have to come to spar with such dangerous beings that threatened not only his life, but the others. He was plenty sure that most of the others had formulated some thought... maybe. Who was to say that they were yellow roses crowding around the white rose? Fabrications of deceit to lure him in further into a dreaming coma where he might not wake up?
As ______ completed the lesser tasks of procuring a few bullets, he worriedly stole himself a seat on one of the steeples pews after unequipping his sheathe housing his sword. As he sat, he found himself thinking about this realm, thinking about the inhabitants. Maria was seemingly aware of everything, yet the others lacked a memory - a recollection of any previous life. Ruffling his hair, staring desperately at the floor as if they harbored clues to a milk puzzle. This was a rather maddening predicament, and he still felt the need to test this world and if he was truly in a coma. ______ had his doubts over his own sanity as he stayed baffled about every little thing.
And of course, staying alone in a frightening steeple after everyone left was a great idea in contemplating over his sanity and other myriads of things.
"... first off, I need a name to call myself. I can't exactly question Maria as she might not know or just fiddle around and screw with me mentally. Of course, I don't know if I can ask the others without procuring a quizzical or snarky response... hum... wait; Maria said I was a bad omen... What if I used that; the word 'Omen' as my temporary name? It has an ominous tone to it, but it could work."Entranced by his own thoughts, Omen failed to notice any screech as he dwell deeper and deeper into his mind, going over specific questions that needed to be answer. There was a faint smile for a fleeting moment before he stared at one of his hands. Moving his left hand towards his mouth, he sought to test one theory - how real was this world? If there was throbbing from the bitten finger, it would denote the facet and bring some light to Marias story... maybe.
Bringing his teeth down, he began squeezing his finger with the hardy bones, feeling the pressure as his nerves told him to let go. Eventually, the sting came in as he freed his slightly bleeding finger from the grasp of his now crimson tooth. Grunting in discomfort, he was more perturbed now that he confirmed that a place like this was too vivid, too real to be a dream. In a dream, he would of felt the pain of having his arm sliced off in one of his nightmares, the torture of having his intestines ripped from his torso.
In those dreams, he felt no pain, except fear; in this reality he was feeling both after that.
Which lead him to his next question due to Maria's dialogue - Were these all real people, including her? Suffice to say, it would be little to extremely impossible to diffuse that theory as he his head onto his resting arm, sighing as he attempted to ferment a way to test this, despite how mad it sounded.
...
After a few minutes of sitting in the deafening silence, he came to a new conclusion. Standing up with his chest beaming high, confidence was surging through the smirking man - he had discovered the possible solution. Of course, that would introduce a new batch of nightmare fuel, but he could hide his frightfulness for now. Omen had to put on a brave front - one that would discourage pursuers and wrack assailants with horror. Reattaching his sheathe, he set out with the others, late to what was to come. The clapping of soles could be heard as he swiftly dashed out the front door.
Situated on the outskirts of the church, Omens vision lacked any signs of companions in the forlorn area. Glancing at the sable roads and moon lit sky, he saw the duality of the blue moons as they watched the mortal coil below. Huffing, Omen ran, searching for any familiarity among the folk in the area. Most people didn't bother glancing at the dashing swordsman as he swiftly sped onward, his fortitude unwavering.
After running around like a madman seeking respite and penance for the past couple of minutes, he noticed a grisly display transpiring far away from him with a man wielding rope, Maria standing betwixt the chaos like it was no ones damn business (fighting gleefully, nevertheless), and a couple of more people, along with onlookers not undertaking any exceptional action to counter what he concluded were... wolfmen. Shaking his head and rolling his eyes in frustration, he dashed towards the scene, getting a better glimpse at the other characters.
"Why aren't they assisting any of them? They could be maimed or murdered from this ordeal!"Shoving his injured hand into the bag, he shuffled around to find a bullet before giving up and putting his hand on the hilt since he was close to combat. From what he noticed, Lillian lie motionless, collapsed like a rag doll on the ground, and everyone else was painting the town red through impalement and evisceration; most of the five beasts resolves were tested from what he was concerned as the group lay waste to...
"WHY THE HELL ARE NEITHER OF THEM HELPING?!" Omen was very late to the skirmish, yet others who were in attendance simply watched as the others handled the vile creatures with ragged black fur and rotting yellow teeth. The sheer impudence astonished him as the hobo woman dressed like a tacky nobleman walked away from the fight, haughty to the benign threat, but threat nevertheless. He had a feeling this woman might not be the kind he would want to dabble with, especially if she left her comrades on a limb, even in a conflict like this. Despicable. Of course, the man was no better, but he seemed less vain and was merely watching with a keen eye. Maybe he was waiting for an opportune moment to strike?
Nevertheless, Omen was nearing the cavalry, ready to make his assault with the rest of the squad. Before Omen could even brandish an inch of his opulent blade, the fight came to an abrupt end as the remaining intimidated creatures were vanquished before his very eyes. His grasp was no longer on the blade, rather his hip as his gaze lingered over the riposte intestines and severed limbs. Omen felt disappointment in not helping his comrades, yet kept a cool and stalwart demeanor as he stood by the fighters... before noticing he was near the temple.
"Just ignore it - play it cool; pretend you were in the church th... I came in the opposite direction of the church, they are bound to notice. At a saving moment I had tunnel vision and somehow managed to not hear the clashing. Five gold stars there Omen..." Before he knew it, there was a woman forcing her palm across his allies face, cursing him while failing to comprehend reality. Of course, in an instant she thrust herself into the well, a sickening crack besmirched his ears as he seldom gleaned at the woman's fate after the nonsensical jabbering, shivering at the malign thought of the mangled body.
Not letting that affect him, Omen began his covert "reason" for not arriving right on the nickel to help destroy the hounds from hell.
"Apologies for being late; I was..." Before the chance to speak his part over his obliviousness and the facet that he just ran through town, a man sporting a fedora and a jade eye reminiscent of a befouled, tainted corpse happened upon the area, fear glistening as he nervously insulted them before apologizing, not realizing they were... God Hands? Omen could only assume to be an opposing cult of the Absolute as he glanced at the man, not a smile nor outward reaction plastered on his neutral expression.
Of course, the next thing that came forth was the questioning over the mayors bizarre reasoning was from rope man with Lillian in his arms. He questioned Spencer over why he allowed such accursed beings to rampage over sacrifices and other inherently peculiar happenings. The accusations came off as somewhat condemning and almost as if the frightened man was hiding some enigma. The man had medium awareness of this realm from what he figured as he was acting saner than the people who were negligent about their own well being.
Next came the comment from Glasses, to which he hit Maria with some interesting questions. Why did they exactly have to herald severed appendages and mutilated torsos to this church of the absolute? It may of been a way to make the Hunters some money, but from the way the kid put it made it almost condemning, as if a fish knew what the worm did and swam away from the hook. Of course, the kid might of struck it gold and he felt it was nigh time to turn his attention to the mayor since he needed some serious reality management.
"Rope man does make some interesting points; guess it's time for me to add on too," spoke as he turned his visage back to the middle aged man, glaring at him as if it was a sign of his damnation. Omen wasn't too fond of a mayor who couldn't organize a militia to safeguard their town, or displayed any concern (outside of fear) over these beings terrorizing and possibly massacring apathetic citizens.
"That woman, in her madness committed suicide. I can guess it's a common occurrence for you and the townsfolk to denote another humans death at the hands of some sacrifice. Since you're the mayor of the town, could you tell me a story - a story of why your people act like this and how long these cultists have been harassing this village."Omen was blatantly sure there was something amiss here, however wanted to hear the words from the horses mouth. Omen felt the need to discern his intentions and if he was truly genuine as he did form some conclusion to why more came after sacrifices. If the mayors answers were merely weak and paltry, he knew not to waste his time, and instead go onward to collecting bounties and discovering myriads of things.
There was also the worry of Lillian on his mind, despite her unharmed state. She was unconscious which meant something unpleasant must of transpired to lull her into such condition. Omen wasn't too worried about the others since most of them either came out unscathed, wait for the right (but late) time to strike, or blatantly ignored the battle like a daft clod.
Either way, these questions might herald some interesting answers, but nevertheless, they would possibly have to depart in search of such inquisitive tasks that they could not deny doing. You did what you did to survive, regardless of whether it was fighting someone you cared about or feeding rotten bones to a beast that could tear you asunder in hopes of appeasing it.
Omen stared up at the twin moons as he awaited the mans response.
"Such an abnormal sight..."
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