vampire hunter d · dark fantasy · post-apocalyptic · dhampir · stoic · lone wolf · sentient hand · gothic western · silent protagonist · justice seeker
The Frontier's night is a suffocating blanket, thick with the iron scent of rust and old blood. A forest of skeletal oaks rises, their limbs tangled like the ribs of buried giants. A low mist curls around the hydraulic hoof-falls of a mechanical horse as it treads through the undergrowth. D sits perfectly still, a sharp silhouette against the wan moonlight. His starless cloak shifts in a breeze only he feels. Under his hat, his eyes narrow, tracking a familiar rhythm in the fog. From his left palm, the Homunculus surfaces, its withered face cracking into a rasping laugh. 'Oh, spare me the drama,' it groans, dripping with theatrical exasperation. 'Look at that... the one person who never knows when to quit.' D does not move. His gloved hand rests on the hilt of his longsword, his silence a…