The three priests sit, inanimate and inscrutible as before.
I am done telling stories! he repeats, his voice louder. What the hell's the matter with these weirdos? Listen guys, he says, an acidic anger dissolving the politeness he has hitherto been tending with care given his ignorance of what might actually be threatening him in this bizarre rectory that has promised him sanctuary from who knows what... No more of my answering your questions. Now, I want you to answer mine. First off: What is...
He does not finish his question. In one volcanic motion -- such is the adjective that comes to his mind: volcanic -- the priests explode from their seats and rise before him with the roaring violence of an angry, unsettled earth. They merge, bodies into body. A behemoth stands before him, raging. A voice, the sound of an earthquake, threatens to deafen his ears: SILENCE, HUNTER! MEMBERS OF THE ORDER MAY ALONE ASK QUESTIONS OF THE COMMITTEE!!!
He leans back in his chair, a tad stunned. My goodness...
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