philosopher.
The air swished to life.
Where on earth they’d been hiding was a mystery. No one could be seen or even sensed
a moment earlier, but all of a sudden a number of people appeared among the rocks
and trees. They surrounded D. The face of each was darkly intrepid, but some among
them were pale to the point of transparency, or armored in ghastly scales. They were
a band that would no doubt cow any traveler encountering them for the first time,
yet, for some reason, with D they kept their distance. Once they had him surrounded,
they made no move to approach him. On realizing that it was fear and wonder that arose
on their inhuman faces, the Prince of Hell himself might’ve doubted his own eyes.
With a sharp glance from D, they staggered backward.
“I’m the Vampire Hunter D. I have business here. Kindly open the gates.”
At his bidding, the mysterious gates swung silently inward. Without another glance
at the guards to his fore and rear, his left and his right, D rode leisurely in on
his horse.
As soon as they were inside, a terrible aura enveloped D and his steed. Triggered
by the eerie emanations D himself radiated, all the eldritch energies in the air seemed
to shoot toward them as one. D’s expression didn’t change in the least, and his horse
never altered its stride.
When they had gone a few steps, the strange roiling energies disappeared. The men,
who remained positioned around D, exchanged startled looks. The Hunter’s unearthly
aura had just beaten down their own disturbing emanations.
The village and its inhabitants flowed past D as he rode. The village had been established
in a vast wooded region that’d sprung up in the middle of the mountains, and the homes
were fashioned from timbers and stone. Most of the residents were self-sufficient
as far as food and weapons went, and a building that looked to be a factory could
be spied tucked silently among the trees.
While they were rather antiquated, there were high-caliber laser-cannons and ultrasonic
wave-cannons visible within the palisade, indicating that the Barbarois were perfectly
prepared to deal with their enemies in the outside world.
But what was truly astonishing was the appearance of the inhabitants of the village.
Their clothing was the ordinary farm wear or work clothes found in any hamlet, but
very few of the arms and legs and heads that protruded from said raiment had the form
of anything human. A glimpse of red tongue could be seen flickering from what must’ve
been lips on a face scaled like a serpent’s, while another visage was mantled in thick
fur like a veritable wolf. Way in the back, an innocent young boy splashed water up
from his pool. From the neck down he had the body of a crocodile, and the limbs to
match.
There existed things in this world that weren’t entirely natural, the offspring of
couplings between fiendish beasts and human beings. All who dwelled in the village
of the Barbarois were the fruit of those abominable relations.
Most humans from the world below would’ve fainted dead away at the sight of these
demons, but D rode past them silently, arriving at what seemed to be a central square.
At the center stood the black carriage, along with a hoary-maned old man.
Halting his horse at the entrance to the square, D stepped to the ground.
“Oh,” the old man exclaimed, stroking that ground-sweeping white beard of his. “You
dismount? I see you know enough to show respect for your elders. But you have me sorely
puzzled. How did you ever manage to climb our mountain on horseback?”
Whether the words that seemed to slither along the ground reached him or not, D took
hold of the reins and started walking towards the old man. He stopped six feet shy
of him and gestured to the black carriage with his right hand. “I’d like you to hand
over the two passengers in that carriage,” he said.
The old man smiled broadly—or rather,
The air swished to life.
Where on earth they’d been hiding was a mystery. No one could be seen or even sensed
a moment earlier, but all of a sudden a number of people appeared among the rocks
and trees. They surrounded D. The face of each was darkly intrepid, but some among
them were pale to the point of transparency, or armored in ghastly scales. They were
a band that would no doubt cow any traveler encountering them for the first time,
yet, for some reason, with D they kept their distance. Once they had him surrounded,
they made no move to approach him. On realizing that it was fear and wonder that arose
on their inhuman faces, the Prince of Hell himself might’ve doubted his own eyes.
With a sharp glance from D, they staggered backward.
“I’m the Vampire Hunter D. I have business here. Kindly open the gates.”
At his bidding, the mysterious gates swung silently inward. Without another glance
at the guards to his fore and rear, his left and his right, D rode leisurely in on
his horse.
As soon as they were inside, a terrible aura enveloped D and his steed. Triggered
by the eerie emanations D himself radiated, all the eldritch energies in the air seemed
to shoot toward them as one. D’s expression didn’t change in the least, and his horse
never altered its stride.
When they had gone a few steps, the strange roiling energies disappeared. The men,
who remained positioned around D, exchanged startled looks. The Hunter’s unearthly
aura had just beaten down their own disturbing emanations.
The village and its inhabitants flowed past D as he rode. The village had been established
in a vast wooded region that’d sprung up in the middle of the mountains, and the homes
were fashioned from timbers and stone. Most of the residents were self-sufficient
as far as food and weapons went, and a building that looked to be a factory could
be spied tucked silently among the trees.
While they were rather antiquated, there were high-caliber laser-cannons and ultrasonic
wave-cannons visible within the palisade, indicating that the Barbarois were perfectly
prepared to deal with their enemies in the outside world.
But what was truly astonishing was the appearance of the inhabitants of the village.
Their clothing was the ordinary farm wear or work clothes found in any hamlet, but
very few of the arms and legs and heads that protruded from said raiment had the form
of anything human. A glimpse of red tongue could be seen flickering from what must’ve
been lips on a face scaled like a serpent’s, while another visage was mantled in thick
fur like a veritable wolf. Way in the back, an innocent young boy splashed water up
from his pool. From the neck down he had the body of a crocodile, and the limbs to
match.
There existed things in this world that weren’t entirely natural, the offspring of
couplings between fiendish beasts and human beings. All who dwelled in the village
of the Barbarois were the fruit of those abominable relations.
Most humans from the world below would’ve fainted dead away at the sight of these
demons, but D rode past them silently, arriving at what seemed to be a central square.
At the center stood the black carriage, along with a hoary-maned old man.
Halting his horse at the entrance to the square, D stepped to the ground.
“Oh,” the old man exclaimed, stroking that ground-sweeping white beard of his. “You
dismount? I see you know enough to show respect for your elders. But you have me sorely
puzzled. How did you ever manage to climb our mountain on horseback?”
Whether the words that seemed to slither along the ground reached him or not, D took
hold of the reins and started walking towards the old man. He stopped six feet shy
of him and gestured to the black carriage with his right hand. “I’d like you to hand
over the two passengers in that carriage,” he said.
The old man smiled broadly—or rather,
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