This feels like waking from a pleasant nap, though she believes she usually prefers a warm bed to cobblestones.

No, she remembers the lantern in the city now. Is she in the city dreaming, or was she here dreaming about the city?

She could try to will herself awake, but if this is a dream, that would be a potentially destructive test. She carefully edges her mind in that direction to a small degree that shouldn't awaken her, based on years of practice lucid-dreaming with... someone she doesn't remember. Slowly...

But she finds that mental direction has been replaced by a strange rune. It sits as though carved in her mind, urging her towards something.

This is a stranger result than she anticipated; she will keep it in mind.

For now, she approaches the doll. Something about it feels familiar and friendly. Perhaps just fellow-feeling; she is herself a doll of sorts, after all.

For now the doll is still. 

It requires... something else? There is something missing here. 

Moving closer to the doll brings into view a small fountain buried near the wall. Water and white fetal things bubble forth with similar sounding noises. 

The other source of those noises lies further up the cobbled path. 

The doll feels more like her or her sister than a mere doll. Perhaps its inhabitant isn't at home; though she and her sister are both loath to leave their precious material vessels, this doll is not required to feel the same way.

She heads up the path. Maybe someone's at home?

As she walks up the path, she realizes that this group of little creatures is presenting her with an idea of weapons. 

She has a choice. 

[Saw Cleaver]

[Threaded Cane]

[Hunter's Axe]

Oh, so they are allies, of a sort.

"Thank you," she says in her warm, deep voice, bowing slightly towards the strange creatures. At least someone thought it worthwhile to arm a hunter, even if it is with mere weapons and not with knowledge.

And what fascinating weapons! The concepts marry a mad inventiveness with a brutal practicality; she can almost see the wide grin on the face of their designer.

Her sister would swiftly and silently select the axe, she knows, but its heft does not appeal to her; she is not a bulwark of strength. The saw is an interestingly unique design, but it is the cane which draws her attention. What a delightfully impractical design! Unassuming and yet utterly mad.

She reaches for it.

If she flicks it forward it turns into a whip!

This is really quite (pleasantly) ridiculous! Some trick with magnets, it seems. She tests the cane's weight in her hand.

She'd rather enjoy meeting the engineer, probably. Even if they seem somewhat bloodthirsty.

She's feeling somewhat bloodthirsty herself, which is a little surprising. There's a memory here, but it's obscured.

After some experimental swings, she practices leaning elegantly on the cane. This will do.

She looks at the little spirits, or whatever they are, with a slight smile.

They seem to be... smiling back? It's hard to tell. They're too underdeveloped to really do facial expressions in the traditional sense. 

They're also offering another choice. 

[Flintlock Rifle]

[Shotgun]

(They will also offer a bell, an empty journal, and molotov cocktail, which all come as a package)

[[Guns in Bloodborne aren't amazing, they're mostly used for the parry/down mechanic]]

More welcoming gifts are... well, welcome. She admires the flintlock as she examines it and the miscellaneous items.

"This is much appreciated," she says to the little creatures, not really expecting a response.

She gets the ominous fetal creature equivalent of :D. 

The door at the top of the path is now unlocked. 

She heads up to the door, knocking just to be polite and trying the door if she hears no response.

She hears the faint sound of wheels rolling over wooden floor. 

This is an old man in a wheelchair. He is not quite smiling. 

"Ah, hunter," he says. "Welcome to the dream. Has this night found you well?" 

"It is agreeable," she says with a more genuine smile. "And pleasant to make your acquaintance. I am Ungwelissë Saye."

She bows a little, trying to remember more about her name. Saye is a mothername, she thinks? It evokes some kind of long heritage.

"A hunter of beasts, it seems." She leans on the threaded cane as if for emphasis.

He bows in his chair, smiling faintly. 

"I am Gehrman, the guardian of the little haven. Think of it as a safe place to rest when the world of the hunt overwhelms you." 

The smile turns into a smirk. 

"Everything is at your disposal, even the doll."

His expression turns serious. 

"You are far from home, spiderling. How did you find this nightmare?"

She is already inhabiting a well-crafted doll; possibly he means the doll's usual inhabitant?

"Perhaps you have no more answers than I do. I expect that whatever I did, it seemed to be a good idea at the time. It may be immodest to say, but I am certainly well suited to a hunt."

She twirls her cane.

"And I am pleased with the craftsmanship of these weapons! I do not recall the details, but I feel like the weapons I knew were not so... crafty."

He smiles a craggy smile at her. "Aye, the denizens of this workshop were well-skilled, once upon a time."

He sits back in his chair.

"It is time you find your fortune in the waking world, spiderling."

Leaving the nice strange old man to his rest is quite fine.

"Namárië, Gehrman." A little bow and a smaller smile. She raids a desk for stationery; everything is at her disposal, after all.

She heads outside. With a little light spun into silk, a sheet of this letter-paper can be folded and reinforced into a makeshift calling card; she'll inscribe it with her monogram in shadow.

She turns down one corner and leaves it by the doll. Now, what else is in this little dream of a garden? She approaches the bath next.

More of those little mewling face-things appear out of the bath. They are reaching for her. 

These ones are not offering gifts, but seem to project the idea of exchanging 'blood echoes' for objects. 

(Blood echoes are the memory of what she has killed. She should have enough for a handful of objects)

Well, it can't hurt to purchase bullets. She thinks lack of bullets was the main reason she didn't hunt with rifles much in the past.

She takes aim at a pillar in the distance and fires once, to test her weapon. Satisfied, she looks around the garden for any further points of interest.

The bullets are imbued with a little bit of blood, which should be fine. 

There are what look like tomb stones scattered around the garden in rows, but there isn't much she can do with them right now.

The rightmost on the path up to the cottage has a candle lit in front of it. 

She doesn't particularly enjoy drinking blood, but then they're bullets, not snacks.

This candle would make a better snack, but she's not so boorish as to eat a graveside offering. She inspects the stone instead, touching it gently.

She has the feeling that if she concentrates, she can return to the lantern at the top of the ladder.