"Welcome home, good hunter," the Doll's lightly accented voice greeted Balyn upon his return to the Hunter's Dream. "What is it you desire?"
"A pair of leg garters, maybe. I had to stop every couple of rooms to shake sand out of my boots."
"Pardon me?"
"That last chalice ritual took me to a labyrinth that was carved out of the sides of a desert canyon. I never knew that you could have a sandstorm underground."
It was nice, he decided, that every time he returned to the Dream his clothing was restored to the state it had been in when he put it on, along with the healing of his body. Given the number of sand piles he'd rolled through or been knocked into during his exploration of Ailing Loran, he'd gotten it in places much less comfortable than just his boots, and it was nice that he didn't have to spend a couple of hours at a laundry tub washing it out.
"Come to think of it, why do they call it 'Ailing' Loran, anyway?"
The Doll tipped her head to the side to favor him with a curious look. She gave Balyn that look a lot.
"From the number of times I've been clawed, bitten, electrocuted, set on fire, crushed, or generally sliced up, I think I can testify that the people there are feeling pretty hale and hearty. And don't get me started on those endless swarms of giant-sized glowing red spiders. The only thing that 'ailed' them was homicidal mania!"
But for all that he'd won his way through the place and had his prize to show for vanquishing the ancient tomb complex. Clenched in his fist was a Holy Chalice, which if he performed the proper rituals could unlock a path to…
…a deeper section of the same place, doubtless with even more dangerous traps and fearsome inhabitants.
He looked from the chalice up to the Doll.
"Do you ever stop and wonder about your life choices?"
"Quite often of late, good hunter."
"Oh, well, I suppose that it could be worse. At least I can't complain too much about fighting that abhorrent beast."
"Who?"
He held up the chalice.
"The guy who was guarding this. He looked kind of like one of those scourge beasts from Yharnam, except he was walking around on his back legs. And was about three times as big. And electrified. Come to think of it, I wonder if he was the living version of an undead darkbeast? That might explain why I kept having this funny feeling, like I'd met the guy somewhere before…" Balyn shrugged. It'd probably come to him sooner or later. "At least he wasn't that tough to beat. You wouldn't think someone that big would be such a lightweight when it came to poison. I bet they didn't have a lot of drinking parties in Loran; everybody would pass out at the table from one cocktail."
"You did seem to make fewer trips back here than you do when confronting most serious enemies that you encounter."
Balyn didn't think that sounded entirely complimentary.
"Maybe I'm actually improving my skill as a hunter."
They looked at one another.
"Okay, no, that sounded crazy even to me."
Mercifully, the Doll did not linger on the point. "Good hunter, there is one thing that I did wonder about."
"Really? What's that?"
"Well, if you did not have a great deal of trouble defeating this beast, and from your description it seems as if its appearance is similar to that of other beasts and not particularly upsetting to you, then why did you call it abhorrent?"
"Oh. That."
Balyn made a face.
"Remember how I said that the place was built in a desert canyon?"
"Yes."
"Well, the thing that defines a desert is that there's not a lot of water there. I don't think that furball had had a bath since Loran's fall. And don't even get me started on the fleas!"