[†]Video flicks on from breast-pocket level, focusing upon a weaving white-gloved hand and feathered quill-pen dancing Gregorian calligraphy across ancient parchment paper. The man who writes diligently while humming the melody of
The Crusader's Hymn: Fairest Lord Jesus, pauses in his penned thoughts every so often to look back, keeping vigil over
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Comments 97
[Why yes, that would be Alucard snickering...]
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Tis a dwellin', shanty or nae, Baalim.
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An' invade yer sovereign trough, oh King of mire? I would nae dream!
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But yes, she will be happy to have him for a roomate.
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It's more than likely your new home.
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They jist hain out residencies? Surely there's a due tae be paid, lass--O'!
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Quine Hellsing?
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Sir Hellsing will do.
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You didn't die. [To be honest, if you listen reaaaalllllllyyyyy carefully, he sounds a little bit impressed]
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O'course! Tis a wee beastie, efter aw.
Guid tae here ye again, lad.
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Hmph...
So did that... other man you were fighting... die? [He didn't know what to call it.] What was he?
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Dinnae believe me when Ah said he was a monster, did ye? A vampire tae be exact. Th' most viscoos thaur is.
Yet nay.. Ah lit him bide fer noo. Scurried back tae his hole most likely.
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...Looking for something?
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Who owns thes place, 'at which Ah have a key tae?
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..Did you finish..whatever it is you were doing before?
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Forgive me fur my lack of manners earlier, lass, Ah'm Priest Alexander Anderson.
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